Hell is Other People
by amitai
Summary: After a series of attacks, Alex's entire class is sent to be trained at the SAS training camp, to give them a degree of self sufficiency to help them defend themselves. Unfortunately for Alex, he has to go with them... and not get noticed as 'different'. (Chapter 19 update: AT LONG LAST, THEY HAVE LEFT THE CAMP! Thank God.)
1. Chapter 1

This is the result of a long conversation 'tween me and Von. She said it wasn't possible to do a serious all-of-alex's-class-get-sent-to-train!story. I said it was, and, what was more, it was possible to do a good, fun one.

This is the setting up chapter. The next chapter is already written, and let me tell you now, I am on FIRE. This story is awesome! It's so much fun!

(grin)

I hope you like, and forgive it for being somewhat...rushed.

DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I still don't own Alex Rider. Though, I did try very hard.

* * *

The first time it happened, Alex got very, very lucky.

He had had the feeling that someone was watching him, but had shrugged it off; after all, he was back at school, where people always stared at him, and they were on a school trip. He assumed it was just one of the teachers with them thought he was about to whip out some heroine and start offering it to his classmates.

As it turned out, it was a little less mundane.

They were in the National Portrait Gallery, being dragged through an exhibition on Holbein, when an armed man grabbed their teacher, while others blocked off the door to the room they were in. Some of the bystanders screamed; a couple of kids in their class joined in. Alex froze; obviously his past was catching up with him.

Before anything very serious happened, however, the many guards around the Tate had managed to neutralise the greater part of the threat, and the man holding their teacher had been shot; that was the only shot fired. It was a miracle, Alex reflected, that none of the paintings were damaged, but thankfully no real damage was incurred anywhere, or to anyone – except the man who had been shot, of course. The entire building was cleared – their trip was ruined – but Alex wasn't implicated. They were perfunctorily questioned, and sent on their way.

"That was because of you, wasn't it?" Tom muttered to him, on the crowded Tube, on their way back to Brooklands.

Alex managed a shrug, feeling the weakness of relief, and the after-effects of an adrenaline rush beginning to take hold. For several nasty moments there, he had thought he was either about to be murdered in front of his year mates, or, at the very least, have his 'real life' revealed. Surprisingly, neither option had seemed particularly appealing. There had been a time when he'd wished to be able to tell his school about his real life, but that had passed; now, all he wanted was to be normal – or as normal as possible. "Perhaps." He murmured back. "But, it might have just been a badly executed heist of some sort."

"Which is why they targeted _our_ group, of course." Tom pointed out, voice heavy with sarcasm. "C'mon, Alex, it's got to have been to do with you." He smiled a little, shaking his head. "God, when that guy grabbed Mrs. Bennett, I thought I was going to pass out. Scary."

"Mm." Alex nodded, distractedly. "God, it's going to be on the news, and everything, isn't it?"

"Probably." Tom nodded. "Hey, we'll be on the news! …Well, sort of."

Someone else heard him, and they started a discussion about whether they'd have to do television interviews. Alex sank back into the background with a sigh of relief – it didn't seem like anyone was linking this to him at all.

* * *

He barely had time to put his bag down when he got home, when a black-suited man appeared from the kitchen. "Mr. Rider." The man said, voice reserved and intensely professional. "I've been asked to take you to the Bank with me, if that's alright?"

Alex looked at him. "ID?" he asked, sharply.

The driver – or the agent, or the errand boy, or whoever – nodded, with a faint hint of approval, handing over a card. "There you are."

Alex looked at it, carefully, and handed it back with a sigh. "Shall we?" he asked, stepping aside to let the man pass.

* * *

The Royal and General was busy when he arrived, and Alex allowed himself a few moments to wonder, whimsically, whether all the people in the bank were agents, or whether MI6 paid people to come in and pretend to be customers – or, indeed, whether it was 'just' a real bank. But then he was on the seventh floor, and knocking on Blunt's door, and he didn't have time to wonder anymore.

"Alex." Blunt said, voice dry. "Sit down." He didn't wait for Alex to do so before starting. "We've reason to believe that the attack today at the Tate Britain was related to you."

"Really?" Alex shrugged. "Never would have guessed."

"This is nothing to joke about, Alex." Mrs. Jones cut in, her voice a little sharp.

"Honestly, if someone's trying to kill me, trust me, I'm not laughing." Alex sighed. He shrugged. "OK. So, what else did you want to tell me?"

"We don't think it was solely aimed at you." Mrs. Jones said, her voice gentler now. "There are, as you found out with Scorpia, people who are willing to use children to make their point, and we are relatively certain that this is designed as a show case for something much bigger than simply a grudge against you." She paused. "It is possible, though, that your presence in the class is the reason that they are being targeted, rather than another, random group."

Alex almost flinched, but managed to stop himself.

"We're assigning you a guard." Blunt told him, shortly. "He'll be in one of the flats next door to you, and he'll be working in your school, as a new teacher; that way he brings a modicum of protection to your class, as well."

Alex paused for a couple of seconds, thinking it over. There was nothing he wanted less than to have his life interfered with so drastically – but then, on the other hand, he really didn't want to die, and if MI6 thought it would help… Alex didn't like them, but he had to admit that they probably knew what they were doing – in this case, at the very least.

"OK." He said, slowly. "What's his name?"

"George Hanley." Mrs. Jones replied, her voice softer this time. "He'll be here in just a few seconds – he'll follow you back to your house." She paused, then went on, "He's not supposed to be obvious." She told him, possibly to reassure him. "He's just… protection, of sorts. We can't afford to lose you, Alex; Hanley will be the first line of defence. If the worst comes to the worst, he will at least be able to call for back up."

"Couldn't you just give me some way of signalling for help?" Alex said, quietly.

"No." Blunt said, brusquely.

"Alex, if it happens at your home, the chances are back-up wouldn't arrive in time." Mrs. Jones elaborated, more gently. "If it happens at school – well, we can't risk there being any collateral damage, we have to take all the precautions we can."

Alex shrugged. "OK."

There was a knock on the door, and, on invitation, a tall, slender, dark man walked in. He gave Alex a small, rather tense smile, holding out a hand, which Alex shook, and saying,

"You must be Alex Rider." Alex nodded. "George Hanley."

"Yes." Alex nodded. "You're my bodyguard, apparently."

The smile widened and became more than a little ironical. "Yes. Apparently."

"You understand your assignment?" Blunt broke in, impatiently. Hanley straightened, apparently automatically, and said, stiffly,

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Blunt looked down at some paperwork on his desk. "You can go."

In the lift, on the way down, Alex said, shifting slightly, "Well, I guess I'll see you in school."

Hanley gave him a lopsided smile. "Guess you will." He paused, shrugging. "I've done things most people wouldn't believe, but teaching school kids scares me far more."

Alex nodded. "I can understand that." He murmured, and then the lift doors opened. They didn't speak again.

* * *

Jack had laid the table for dinner by the time Alex got back for the second time, and she straightened as he walked in, from where she was bent over the oven, peering at something inside.

Washing her hands, she said, casually, "So, I heard about the shooting at the art museum, today." Alex nodded. "Anything to do with you?"

"In a roundabout sort of way." He nodded, stealing a tomato from the salad he'd just put out.

"How 'roundabout'?"

"I didn't cause it." Alex said, quietly. "That sort of 'roundabout'."

"But," she frowned, "It was _partially_ to do with you?"

"Well, someone was trying to kill me, according to MI6." Alex said, grimly. She stared at him, and he shrugged. "S'not the first time." He sighed.

"Alex…" she said, biting her lip. "Are… is…" She swallowed. "Are you OK? I mean, is… how dangerous do they think it is?" she paused. "I guess…I was hoping that it didn't have anything to do with you." She gave a small, regretful laugh. "Stupid of me, I know."

"Until MI6 talked to me, I was hoping it was nothing to do with me as well, and I was there, so I should have known." Alex said, awkwardly, trying to be reassuring. "I guess it's Scorpia." He frowned, "Though, I guess it might be the Triads. Or, y'know, it could be the militant wing of Green Peace, deciding that I'm too dangerous to the environment, or something. Could be anyone."

"You're one of a kind, Al." she told him, shaking her head in faint disbelief. She checked whatever was in the oven again, as Alex fetched the salt and pepper. "So – what did MI6 say?"

"They've assigned me a bodyguard." Alex said, unable to stop the tiny smile. "He's living next door for the moment."

Jack stared. "I'm sorry, I could have sworn you just said that MI6 have given you a bodyguard."

He nodded, the smile growing. "They have." It morphed into a smirk. "Apparently, I've made myself indispensable. They 'can't afford to lose me', was what they said, I think."

"I'm not sure whether to be relieved, or disturbed." Jack muttered.

Alex couldn't help but agree with her.

* * *

The next day at school was weird, for most of Alex's year. For a start, the police were taking statements from their teachers, and they were all getting over the excitement of being shot at; and, for Alex, there was the added knowledge that his new History teacher had a licence to kill. He didn't want to think why the job had 'suddenly' come up.

His first lesson with 'Mr. Hanley' was uneventful. Hanley asked them all to give him their names, passing Alex without a flicker, not that Alex expected one. He was, Alex was surprised, and a little relieved, to find, a very good teacher; strict, but not harsh. At the end of the lesson, he called over the noise of classroom,

"Rider? Stay behind, please."

Alex hung back, while his classmates trailed out, all of them wondering how he'd managed to get into trouble with a new teacher already, Alex could tell.

Hanley picked up a few sheets of paper. "This is your history coursework?" he handed it to Alex. Alex frowned at it, handing it back with a nod. "It's your first draft, am I right?"

"Yes." Alex said, looking at him. "It's been, um… difficult, for me to get things like History and English coursework in on time, sir." He shrugged. "I get ill very easily, you see."

Hanley nodded, his eyes amused, but his face straight. "Right. Well, your class has already finished the coursework; if you like, I'll go over this with you? I had a look at your school records, to check those illnesses you mentioned, and it seems like you live quite near me. I could come round, maybe tomorrow afternoon?"

Alex nodded, inexplicably grateful. He was certain that this didn't come under the usual necessities of being a bodyguard, and it had been a while since any teacher, engineered into his school by MI6 or not, had put him or herself out for Alex.

Unless, of course, it was all a ruse to give him an excuse to stay with Alex for a while. But Alex didn't think it was.

"Thank you." He said, softly.

Hanley had already turned back to his papers, and looked up, surprised at the depth of gratitude in the boy's voice. But Alex Rider was already disappearing out the door.

* * *

Hanley appeared that afternoon, after school, with a couple of books and a folder. He smiled at Jack when she opened the door, saying, rather loudly, "I'm Alex's history teacher. I'm here to help him with his coursework…?"

It wasn't the last time the man came round to help Alex out with his work; under the pretext of tutoring Alex in History, helping him catch up on all the things he'd missed, he spent most afternoons there. After a few days, he relaxed a little around Alex, even accepting an invitation to dinner, occasionally; and it was a novel experience for Alex to have a teacher around whom he didn't need to worry about what he accidentally let slip.

The second attempt on Alex's life happened just before one of these study sessions. It was one of the rare sunny days that Britain got in early March, and Alex was coming back from a football practice, revelling in the fact that he could do normal things like this – MI6 had decided that it was too dangerous for him to go on any missions while he had someone gunning for him. So he'd been made to run laps for absent-mindedly back talking to his Nazi of a football coach; it was worth it, for the sheer, boring normality.

Mr. Hanley had met him half way back home, at the juncture where he split from Tom, falling into step with him after Tom had disappeared, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"How was football?" he asked, casually.

"Good." Alex grinned. "Mr. Parker made me run laps, but – yeah. Good."

"You must find organised sports pretty boring, now…" he murmured, hardly moving his lips.

"Not really." Alex considered it. "I've found I kind of like the lack of bullets and life-threatening danger when I'm playing football."

Hanley laughed a little at that. "I guess you would, at that."

They walked in silence for a few seconds, in the quiet residential street, which was how they heard the metallic 'click' behind them.

They whirled round in unison, and saw the men advancing on them. Alex rolled his eyes.

"All in black." He muttered. "Amateurs."

"It doesn't matter if they're amateurs if they've got guns." Hanley muttered back, tensely. "Run!"

They turned and ran. The bullets were kicking up the concrete around and behind them before they reached the corner. Swerving left, they found themselves on a busy road, just across from the Thames.

"Cheyne Avenue." Alex murmured, unsure whether or not to be relieved.

"If you run back home now, you'll just bring them with you." Hanley said, quietly. "I'll stop them, OK?"

"You can't…"

"Alex, I'm licensed to carry a gun, and I'll be doing my job, I'm not going to get into trouble!" Hanley snapped. "Now, go! Keep your eyes out for any followers, and keep to busy areas. I'll get Jack to call you when it's all over, OK?"

Alex took off, trying to see whether there was anyone following him.

He wandered around until it hit rush-hour, when he made it to a busy looking cafe, and sat outside, absently sipping on the Coke he ordered. When his phone finally rang, it made him jump.

"It's over." Hanley's voice was tired. "Where are you?" Alex told him. "Don't move, OK? I'll come and get you." The man had hung up before Alex could reply.

He was surprised to find that he disliked not being able to do this for himself; he'd become used to managing without someone, and though he liked Hanley well enough, he disliked – as he'd known he would – having his life constantly interrupted by him, and being baby-sat to such an extent.

But, logically, he knew it was sensible, and not the man's fault, so he said nothing about it when the man finally appeared.

His face was even darker than normal, tense with tiredness, but he dredged up a smile for Alex. Alex managed to smile back, before frowning, and saying, worriedly,

"Are you OK?"

Hanley nodded. "Yeah. It was… a little harder than I'd expected. They had back up, and having a gunfight in the middle of Chelsea is…difficult." He stumbled slightly as they headed towards the Tube, and Alex automatically put out a hand to help him.

"The guy on the right." Hanley whispered, as Alex steadied him. "Brown jacket, jeans… he's been watching you."

"And?" Alex whispered back.

Hanley shrugged, straightening, and saying, in a voice which was meant to be heard, "Well, Alex, if you won't work, I don't think there's anything I can do. Not at this point. I've done too much already, I think."

Alex caught the underlying message, but shrugged, managing a slight whine, as he snapped, indignantly. "I was only asking." He turned away, stopping, and leaning on the wall separating the pavement from the river, faking a sulk. He watched, out of the corner of his eye, as the man Hanley had pointed out stopped, pretending not to watch him.

"Alex." Hanley said, warningly, but Alex shrugged.

"Doesn't matter." He said, huffily, but he knew the other man understood what he was saying. _Don't worry. It'll be fine._

Hanley nodded, with an angry shrug, and moved off. Alex noted that the man in the brown jacket was approaching him, and he tensed, covering the movement by shifting slightly against the embankment.

The man came even closer, until he was practically next to Alex.

It was a lightning move, one which Alex nearly missed; the man reached out to grab his neck, and Alex ducked, reacting purely instinctively. It was all over very quickly; Alex, remembering the little of Judo he'd been taught, allowed the man's own weight and momentum against him. As the man overbalanced, heading for the heavy stone wall, Alex half stood, allowing his shoulder to contact with the man's midriff, then, wrenching backwards, allowed himself to semi-fall as well. The man went stumbling over the wall, and Alex watched, detachedly, as he fell into the Thames.

There was a short scream, which cut off as soon as the man hit the water.

Alex flinched then, and turned away to find Hanley.

* * *

Jack was frantic by the time they got back, fussing over them equally; she'd become rather fond of Hanley over the past week or so, not least because of what he'd done for Alex. She insisted Alex go upstairs and change out of his dirty uniform, telling him to 'warm up and relax a bit', because he was 'horribly pale'. Then she turned her attention on the spy-turned-bodyguard, and insisted that he stay for dinner, telling him that 'he'd just sit down with a TV dinner if he was left to his own devices'.

Alex and Hanley exchanged sheepish glances, and acquiesced.

Over dinner, they discussed the recent attack, while Jack pursed her lips disapprovingly, and listened.

"That one was aimed just at you." Hanley said, thoughtfully. "But I doubt that means they've decided to narrow their sights to just you. Not when they probably have a far wider agenda, which killing of your class would help along."

Alex nodded. "Yeah." He gave a tired smile. "I don't know whether to be grateful that they didn't attack everyone else, or upset that they attacked me."

Hanley shrugged. "I suppose a bit of both would be natural, but most kids wouldn't feel the first one." He gave Alex a quick smile. "I guess you're just unique."

Alex shrugged, rather uncomfortably. "Maybe." He brushed it off, quickly. "If they attack the whole class again, what will you do?" he asked, in an attempt to change the subject.

"I don't know." Hanley said, quietly. "I'll just… do as best I can, I guess." He sighed. "Really, there's nothing else I _can_ do, in all honesty. I'll just – try."

Alex nodded. "Sounds good to me."

The third attack was almost standard, for Alex, at any rate, except for one vital difference. They had been attacked as they waited for their PE teacher, out on their playing field, when two groups of black-clothed men appeared, heading for them with obvious intent. As the first bullet hit the ground, throwing up soil in a soft explosion, Alex had yelled, and scattered like the other kids had, and worked on tripping up, or disarming the men and making it look like a series of constant lucky accidents. However, the men had obviously been given a description of him, and they were shooting at him with frightening accuracy before he could deal with more than three of them.

Finally, cornered, and staring at a man who had a gun pointed at his head, he shut his eyes for a second, hearing an odd thump, followed by a gunshot. He opened his eyes, and looked down.

Nothing.

Well, nothing on him.

The man who'd tried to kill him was unconscious at his feet, and, around him, he could see the police taking out the other would-be assassins – apparently Hanley had heard the gunshots, and called for back up.

Next to the unconscious assassin, was Hanley himself, bleeding profusely from a wound low on the left side of his chest, which seemed ominously close to his heart to Alex, who knew only a little about Biology.

Alex stared sickly at him for a second, then dropped to his knees, yelling hoarsely for help and a doctor.

Hanley opened his eyes and looked at him, blearily. "'Lex." He nodded. "You – OK?"

"Yeah." Alex nodded, fiercely. "I'm sorry."

"Don' be." The man murmured. "Not y'r fault…"

"Right." Alex nodded, not about to start an argument with a wounded and possibly dying man. He opened his mouth to say something – he wasn't sure what, reassurances, maybe, though they'd both knew that they'd be trite – when a shadow fell across him, and a voice whispered,

"Oh my god."

Suddenly there was screaming, and talk of ambulances, and emergency procedures, and Alex faded into the background. The ambulance arrived far faster than Alex had expected – quickly enough that his teacher and bodyguard was still alive, and whispering things at people who asked questions of him.

He managed to push through the huge crowd to talk to one of the medics, as they were about to leave, though. "You might want to take him to St. Dominics." He muttered, as the man shut the door.

The man stared at him. "That's just for the rich and military personnel…"

Alex returned his stare, calmly. "Yes. Exactly." He interrupted, simply, and turned away.

* * *

Jack was understandably devastated when Alex told her. Alex himself couldn't seem to feel anything. He had this horrible sense of numbness – and nothing about the incident itself was very clear. He could hardly remember what happened, or how. He remembered the attack, vividly, but after he found himself backed up against the wall, his memories were blank.

He'd never felt like this before, and it worried him, so he simply tried not to think about it too much. It was the safest way, though he determined to go and see Hanley as soon as the man could have visitors.

When he got into school the next day, it was to find armed guards in the school, patrolling the corridors, with men on duty roster at the gates. The entire school was given a talk on why they were there, though the teachers might as well not have bothered, as they gave the pupils no new information, and they could all have guessed more than they were actually told in the assembly.

* * *

By the fourth attack, however, even the other kids were beginning to be a little blasé about the whole thing. Having people out there who were intent on killing them was undoubtedly scary, but they were all realising that it never happened except when they were at school, in a group, so at least none of them were worrying about being attacked on their way home, or when they were on their own. Some people had been taken out of the school by their parents, but, for the most part, parents were satisfied that enough was being done, and, given that getting their children into another school would be difficult at such a late stage in the term, were content to leave them there for the moment.

The fourth attack had soon been 'neutralised' by the guards, almost before their attackers had a chance to fire off any bullets. However, it seemed to have tipped the scales, in some way, and Alex's class was informed that they would be having an assembly during third lesson, 'about recent events'. Buzzing with excitement, they made their way down to the gym, where Alex was confronted with John Crawley.

He stiffened, but managed not to show anything outright, taking his seat silently, and staring at the man. Briefly, Crawley met his eyes, but only for a second, before he looked away again, eyes sweeping the room.

"Good morning." He said, voice as dry and dusty as usual. "As I am sure you have noticed, you've been experiencing a persecution of sorts from an outside threat." A ripple of laughter ran through the class – how could they not have noticed, after all? But Crawley ignored it, and continued, regardless. "I work for MI5," A flicker of excitement; Alex allowed his lips to twitch at the lie, but kept resolutely silent, and still. It did make sense, he supposed. After all, they'd all go back home and tell their parents, who would know that MI5 was internal, against MI6, which dealt with international terrorism; and, although it would only be a slight comfort, parents would be very slightly reassured by the 'fact' that their children weren't being targeted by an international terrorist organisation. "And, after long consideration, we have decided that, to help you deal with this, you would benefit from some personal training." The flicker of excitement grew, breaking out into small pockets of excited whispering, which Crawley quelled with a tiny frown. "Your parents will, of course, have to be informed, and may decline to have you put through this, though it will be a valuable life skill." Alex raised an eyebrow, but mentally shrugged. He supposed it _was_ a valuable life skill, if you weren't then forced to use it, immediately, to save said life. "Those of you who have your parents' consent will leave on Friday. The course will be two weeks long." He looked at them, carefully. "If you have any further questions, talk to your teacher." He told them, quietly, and waited for them to walk out, which they did, in silence.

Once the doors of the gym closed, the excited mutterings began. Alex, however, felt dull inside. Of course, he was going – since Alan Blunt and Tulip Jones were essentially his 'parents' in a practical sense (though the very thought made him shudder), there was no way they 'wouldn't allow him' to go – but he had a nasty feeling that blending in was going to be very, very difficult.

* * *

And, there you have it. I hope you liked it! Please tell me, yeah?

Lol, ami. xxx


	2. Chapter 2

I generally wait a little longer before putting up a new chapter; it's only been five days, and I'm paranoid, I like to tweak stuff, and also, real life has this nasty habit of happening, and getting in the way of important things like writing fanfiction.

Mind you, at the moment, I'm trying to sort out University courses that do both English and Spanish/Hispanic Studies - and I think my school is being a little silly in this, because, woah, people, premature much? I haven't taken my damn AS-Levels yet, what's with the University hype?! - whether or not to apply to Oxford (because, argh, some teachers say yes, some say maybe, and some look at my like I'm totally mad and say "um, sorry sweetie, but they don't take thick people at Oxford..." :D), fitting in revision, piano practice, flute practice, Tae Kwon Do practice, and there's also that pesky nervous breakdown to schedule for some time in the summer holidays.

Jokes.

Seriously, though, my dears, writing fanfiction is not the most important thing on my mind right now - you're only getting this because I already typed it up, I'm afraid. There may be something of a wait for the other ones! Sorry again, but I really do have to pass these exams.

Love and a dedication once again to Von, who never fails to inspire me, and also to my brother, because it would annoy him. Though, in his own little way, I suppose he does inspire me; every time he's at home, he annoys me so much, I go to my room and type. :D

And thanks to all you lovely people who reviewed so much and so quickly, because now it means I feel I can update. :D

Though, could someone please tell me something? I've looked and looked on the actual Alex Rider page for two of my stories, and they don't seem to be there. THey're definitely on my profile page, but I can't see them in the actual category itself. Is this just me, or is this something anyone else as found?

Meh. That sounds like a plug, and it's not - you don't have to read them, I'm just... curious.

Anyway, onto the story.

DISCLAIMER: If I were Anthony Horowitz, I'd be being paid to write about Alex Rider. Sounds like an ideal job to me, but, unfortunately, not one I'm ever likely to get.

* * *

Alex stood and stared at the all-too-familiar camp in the Brecon Beacons. He couldn't believe that he was here, doing this, with his class mates, and would be here for two weeks.

He bit his lip, following the crowd absently as they were led into the mess hall, his mind on other things. Hopefully, he'd manage to be useless at all this; after all, it wasn't like he'd done any _proper_ assault courses recently, it was likely he'd be just as bad as everyone else. He clung to that comforting line of thought, and just prayed that, if there was anyone here who knew him, they'd been briefed not to say anything that would give him away.

The drill Sergeant apparently had, as, though he'd definitely seen him, he gave no sign of recognition, standing up in front of the crowd of chattering kids and shouting,

"All of you, _shut up_!"

The silence rang throughout the mess hall.

"While you're here," he shouted, "You'll behave. You'll be alongside professional soldiers, who aren't going to take kindly to any back-talking, do you understand?" A few brave people nodded. Alex didn't react at all, remembering all to well how 'kindly' the soldiers had taken to him. "We've never had to train any bloody children before," and here, his eyes did flick over to Alex, though it wasn't noticeable to anyone who wasn't looking for it. "So we're not going to make any exceptions for you, you understand?" he grimaced. "Obviously, you'll get the soft options, in terms of training – and we're not going to risk your lives by training you with the other soldiers…"

Tom leant across to Alex to whisper to him. "Did you train with the other soldiers?" he asked, but before he could even finish the question, the drill Sergeant was pointing at them.

"You!" he barked, and they both jumped, Tom fearful of punishment, Alex on edge at the idea of having his 'cover' blown. "We don't tolerate talking over your instructors here. We're not in a bloody _high school_." He turned back to the rest of the children. "He's going to be an example." He told them, voice carrying a very heavy warning. He turned back to them. "Stay behind." He ordered. "We'll talk about your punishment duty."

Tom wilted – but it was Alex the Sergeant was talking to.

The man went on for a while longer about what they would be doing, where they would be doing it, and where they would be sleeping, but Alex had tuned out. He'd done all this before, and although he did listen with half an ear, he wasn't paying any great attention – just enough to catch where they were sleeping, where to get kit, etc. He was more worried about blending in. Already, he'd managed to get singled out.

Finally, the man barked, "Dismissed!" at them, and they all filed out, rather cowed and silent, though Alex heard the chatter explode the moment the door was closed.

The drill Sergeant looked him over. "Cub." He said, slowly.

"Sir." Alex's voice was flat.

"What the hell have you got into now?" The man's voice was slow and almost friendly. Alex shrugged, unwilling to be taken in that easily by a man who'd contributed so much to his week and a half of living hell so many months ago. "I asked you a question, Cub!"

"And I'm not allowed to answer it, _sir_, so there wasn't much point asking it, was there?" Alex said, his voice controlled and polite, but with a hint of steel under them.

The Sergeant, amazingly, backed off, with a tiny, almost invisible smile. "You picked up a tongue from somewhere, then." He stated, backing away, and leaning against one of the tables. "I said you had punishment duty." He began, after a pause. Alex nodded, with a small sigh. "Mess duty." The sergeant ruled. "Every night for the next week." He grinned, suddenly, the expression looking strangely incongruous on the tough, no-nonsense man Alex remembered so vividly. "We might be able to teach you some of the interesting stuff."

Alex shuddered.

* * *

He made his way over to be issued with kit – it had been brought in specially for his class, because they didn't generally keep many spares of anything in the barracks, and certainly not enough to deal with a class full of school children – and carried it back to the barracks where the boys were quartered.

Inside was chaos; no one seemed to know quite what to do with their belongings, or how to wear the new clothes they'd been issued, so Alex, knowing that it wasn't necessarily the most sensible of moves if he wanted to stay inconspicuous, dressed as quickly as he could, and then said, quietly,

"You know, we're gonna get bollocked if we leave this place looking like this."

Only a few people heard him, but they stopped talking, and the silence spread, until, after a minute or so, the room was almost totally silent, apparently waiting for something.

Alex swallowed, squaring his shoulders, and waiting for whatever was going to come next.

One boy stepped forwards, looking him over. "How d'you get the uniform to look like that?" he said, suspiciously. "You done this before, or something?"

Alex shrugged. _Well, there's another rumour for the school as to what I do when I'm off school_, he thought, absently, with heavy irony. For a second, he thought fast, then said, casually. "I've watched enough films to know how to wear this stuff. 'Band of Brothers', and all that." He looked at the other boy, Will Hartford, a hint of challenge in his gaze. "Haven't you?"

Will shrugged. "What were you saying about tidying this place up?"

Alex looked at him, the lie already formulated. He remembered all too well how K-Unit had been chewed out for the slightest disorderliness, and he had no doubt that, school children or not, they would get the same sort of treatment.

"He doesn't seem like the sort of guy who's going to let us be messy." He let a faint hint of a whine surface in his tone. "I mean, he gave me mess duty just for talking."

Will smirked, then frowned, putting two and two together, and realising that the punishment for untidiness would probably be far, far worse; and no one wanted to find out what it was.

Alex went round, helping people put on their uniforms. Tom's was far too big for him, and he was practically swimming in it. Alex did the best he could, tightening the trousers, and the jacket, but even after that, Tom still looked like he was wearing some sort of camouflage circus tent.

* * *

When the drill Sergeant arrived, twenty minutes later, the barracks were tidy, they all looked at least half-decent, and were sat on their respective beds, talking. He frowned at them, as only Alex got to his feet on entering.

Mentally, Alex kicked himself. He hadn't been thinking before he did it, and now he was making himself stand out. Getting back into the SAS camp mindset would normally have been useful, but not in this particular case. He wanted to be like everyone else, he didn't want to show that he knew how these things worked; there was, after all, only so far he could push the excuse of 'watching a lot of war documentaries.

Fortunately, though, the Sergeant was quick to provide him with an excuse. "Someone's been watching too many films." He said, sounding almost gentle, and a couple of boys smirked at Alex, who tried to make himself flush, with little success. Then, the sergeant barked, "On your feet, all of you!"

There was a frantic scramble as everyone threw themselves to their feet, thought Alex gained himself a few dirty looks, for being a 'know-it-all'. He sighed in relief. If, by the end of the fortnight, the most that was said of him was that he was an army know-it-all, he'd feel that he'd done pretty well.

"The SAS work in teams." The Sergeant told them, voice sharp. "Four men in each team. There aren't that many of you, so you've been assigned one team, as 'teachers'." He smiled, without humour. "They're fully fledged members of the SAS, who've been given some downtime," Alex started to get a little nervous about this, "And they're not too happy about being asked to teach you." The other boys looked slightly worried about that as well. "Well, come on, ladies!" the Sergeant said, after a pause, during which no one moved. "They're outside."

Alex made sure he wasn't the first to move, and wasn't the last. Keeping his head down – they hadn't been given berets, or 'lids', but he couldn't say he was unhappy about that – he filed out with the others, and only risked a glance upwards when everyone went still.

Four men were stood there, as they'd been told. One was short and wiry, blond, with a kind, stern face – one had red hair, cut short, and dark eyes, with laughter lines around them, who looked seriously pissed off at the moment. Of the other two, one was tall and dark, and looked just about as pissed off as his shorter, red-headed team mate. The last was average height, well built, and looked Hispanic. Alex sighed.

Brilliant. Just bloody brilliant.

Snake, Fox, Eagle, and Wolf. Just the people he wanted to see.

MI6 had obviously decided that making Alex Rider's life living hell was more fun than any of their other past times, and had put an extra-large amount of time into it this week.

The girls joined them a second later, while Alex stared fixedly at his boots. Technically, women weren't allowed to join the SAS, as it was too rigorous a training course, and too physically demanding, but it had been ruled that, as they weren't doing to full course, the girls could just come to the same camp. For the most part, they were being ignored to the same extent as the boys; they were just rather more pissed off about it. Equally, without Alex there to help them, they all looked as rag-tag and disorderly as the boys had, pre-Alex.

Wolf heaved an audible sigh, and Alex became ever more fascinated with his shoes. Even to him, the kid who'd known Wolf for all of ten days, and had become reacquainted with him for the sole purpose of overthrowing an evil mastermind, a tentative alliance which had lasted all of a day and a half, the man sounded annoyed. And Wolf wasn't exactly the most forthcoming of guys, when it came to emotions. If even _Alex_ could hear his annoyance, the man was very, very annoyed.

"Shut up." He told them, quietly, and there was an immediate hush. Alex had known, even when he was training the first time round, and was dealing with Wolf's bullying, why the man had been picked to lead the unit; he was a natural leader, even if he had decided he hated Alex on sight. "We're your – teachers," he put a wealth of disapproval into the word, "while you're here. I'm Wolf, that's Fox," he pointed to the red-head, "That's Snake," this time, it was the blond man, "And that's Eagle." He frowned round at all of them, suddenly catching sight of Alex's bent head. "You." He said, suddenly, and Alex jerked his head upwards, on reflex, not entirely sure whether it was him being addressed, but all too used to being issued orders.

He knew, the moment he met Wolf's eyes, that the man hadn't been expecting to see him anymore than he, Alex, had wanted to see Wolf.

Luckily, they were both all too used to adapting in a split second.

"You look up when you're being spoken to, do you understand?" he said, roughly, though his voice had changed very slightly. Enough, however, that the rest of K-Unit looked over. Eagle's look of 'very, very pissed off', made a lightning change into shock, and then to glee, and then to pain, as Snake surreptitiously kicked him on the ankle, as a not-so-subtle reminder that Alex was probably under cover.

Alex nodded. "I understand, sir." He told him, quietly.

Wolf nodded. "Stay behind." He told him, voice still rough, his eyes assessing Alex, frowning slightly. Then, he took a step backwards, and addressed the whole group. "If all of you act like him, it's going to be a long fortnight." He told them, sourly.

There was a brief ripple of laughter, until Wolf glared them into silence. "As the leader of my unit, I'll be the highest authority that you have day-to-day contact with." _Great, just great_, Alex thought, sourly. "If you've got any problems, you come to me; you've got any complaints, you come to me; you've got any suggestions, you come to me. I'm not going to promise tea and sympathy, and if you're being ridiculous," his tone said that he expected exactly that, "I'm not even going to bother listening. If it's serious, I'll do what I can. But, I don't expect you're going to have any problems except the fact that you're all lazy and unfit."

Behind him, Snake raised an eyebrow at his nominal 'leader's' assessment of the school kids.

"You're not doing anything tonight." Wolf told them, so Alex immediately suspected a midnight swim, or some other form of 'fun' torture. "Evening meal's at six. If you miss it, you don't eat, it's as simple as that." He looked disapprovingly at some of the more waif-like girls. "I'd recommend that you eat whatever you're given. You're going to need it. Lights out is at nine, for you, and any noise after that is going to be severely punished, do you understand?"

There was some mumbling consent, and Wolf looked at them, a faint hint of despair in his voice as he said, "You're lucky you're only doing a little drill. It'd take a lot longer than a fortnight to get you lot even half-way decent. You'll be woken at seven, an hour later than the rest of the men. That's so you don't clog up the mess hall for men who've got better places to be. Understood?" The same mumbling. He let them stand there in silence for maybe a minute longer, then dismissed them, pointing at Alex. "You. Wait behind."

Alex let his classmates go past him, some grinning, obviously amused at how much he'd managed to get 'wrong' so far, while a few – a very few – others gave him sympathetic looks. Tom even managed a pat on the back.

Once they'd all disappeared, he stepped towards his erstwhile team-mates, and sighed. "Yes, sir?"

Behind Wolf, Eagle was grinning, as was Fox. Snake just looked faintly concerned.

"What're you doing here?"

"My class got sent to get some training." Alex answered, deliberately oblique. "I'm a member of the class, so I got sent too."

"What about parental consent, though?" Snake broke in, before Wolf could say anything. "Didn't your parents object? I mean, surely they knew that it'd be difficult for you to be here, again?"

Alex stared at him. "I thought you knew." He said, slowly.

"Knew what?" Wolf asked, impatiently.

"MI6 are my legal guardians." He allowed himself a tiny, sarcastic smile. "I guess my uncle left me to them in his will."

"What do you mean?" Wolf demanded.

"My parents died when I was one." Alex reeled off the facts, refusing to get emotionally involved at this point. "They died, and I went to live with my uncle. Both my Dad and my uncle were spies, and when my uncle died, MI6 were designated my legal guardians; they sent me off to finish the job my uncle got killed on." He shrugged. "But, first, I had to have some more training. That was when I came here."

Snake nodded. "And, didn't MI6 think that it would be a little dangerous for you to be here again? What if you got your cover blown?"

"I think they thought it was worth it to top up my training." Alex told him, with faint sarcasm.

"Possibly." Snake nodded.

"How fit are you?" Wolf interrupted, bluntly.

Alex debated whether or not to tell him about his bullet wound, then decided against it, figuring that he could tell him about it if it ever became really necessary. "Relatively." He hedged, warily. "Why?"

"Because, unless you need to regain your fitness, there's no point you doing the same training over again." Wolf pointed out, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He frowned, thinking it over. "Tomorrow, you can do the same thing as everyone else. Then, if we think that you're doing well, we'll find a way to give your training an 'upgrade'."

"Oh, thank you." Alex muttered.

"What was that, Cub?"

"I said 'thank you'." He told him, presenting him with a blank, innocent face. "Was there anything else?"

"No." Wolf waved him off, but Eagle spoke up before he could get safely away,

"Cub, I meant to ask, and never got the chance, that time when we were working together in the Alps… why were you snowboarding on an ironing board?"

Alex turned back to look at him. "I couldn't find a proper board."

"Why not?" he was grinning, the bastard.

"I was in a hurry."

"Why?"

Alex sighed. "Because, if I didn't get out quickly, they were going to find me. And if they found me, I was going to be dissected. Understandably enough, I think, I was less than keen on that." Eagle looked sufficiently silenced, and Alex turned his gaze to Wolf, who looked faintly – but only faintly – taken aback. "May I go, sir?"

Wolf nodded, and, this time, Alex managed to leave without being called back.

* * *

Back in their barracks, he was jumped on and pumped for information. He put on a sulky face, and slouched in, trying to look annoyed and a little upset, and doing a rather good job of it. The other boys certainly seemed to believe him when he moaned that he'd just been 'yelled at' for being 'rude'.

Only Alex kept any real eye on the time, and he was the sole reason that they all managed to eat that night, as he was the one who practically kicked everyone out of the door. It wasn't for any very philanthropic motive; he just didn't feel like trying to get to sleep in a room full of boys bitching and moaning about how hungry they all were. But the mess hall itself presented him with something of a challenge, when, while he was fetching his tray of food, one of the cooks paused, and said,

"I know you. You been here before, right?"

Alex froze, trying to school his features into a look of surprise and confusion, when Wolf, of all people, came to his rescue. He was a few people behind Alex, and he snapped at the man,

"For god's sake, Joe, get a fuckin' move on, OK? And stop teasing the damn kids, of course you haven't seen him before, and you'll never have to see any of 'em again, after a fortnight, thank God. Now, could you please damn well move, kid?"

Alex, who had glanced at the man when he started speaking, reckoned it was the truly terrifying glare on his face, rather than his words, which got the man to release him and his food, and allow the line to continue.

When he sat down at the table, though, the Sergeant, who was apparently just leaving, paused next to him, just as he was about to start eating, and said, clearly,

"Don't forget your mess duty tonight, boy."

Suddenly, his food looked even less appetising than it had before.

"Hey, Rider!" one of the boys, a good friend of Will Hartford, called across to him. "Couldn't your drug dealing friends think up a way to get you out of this?"

Alex ignored him, until the boy next to him elbowed him. "Well?" the other boy prodded. "Aren't you going to answer him?"

Alex looked up at him, coolly. "Obviously not." He shrugged, and tried to go back to his meal, when someone else piped up.

"I bet you're used to places like this, after all the time you've spent in Juvie."

Alex sighed, but didn't bother to contradict the boy. Apparently, someone had decided that this was Question Alex Rider Night. "I suppose I must be, yeah." He agreed, calmly.

"Have you actually been to prison?" The boy across from him asked. A couple of the girls on their table were listening closely.

"If you think I have been, nothing I say is going to change your mind." Alex pointed out, finally giving up on his meal, and trying to find the slab of rock-hard bread in the slightest bit appetising.

"But, have you?"

He gave up on the bread as well – he could survive without one meal and still manage this training, he'd eaten less and done more before – and stood up. "No." he told him, flatly. "I get sick easily." With that, he took his tray to the exit, poured his uneaten food into the bin, and walked out.

* * *

Alex walked slowly back to the barracks, and was nearly there by the time he noticed the big black Sergeant stood by the door, apparently reading something. "You given up on dinner, Cub?"

"Yes, sir." He noticed that he was half stood at attention, and fought the urge to slouch deliberately.

"You're going to need it."

"I've missed meals before, sir." he pointed out, quietly, and let the man dropped it.

"You've got an hour before you need to be at the mess hall for clear up duty." The Sergeant told him, slowly. "And you were pulled out of learning how to shoot last time, weren't you?" Alex nodded, beginning to see where this was going. "Well…" he man appeared to consider it. "I've not got any order concerning you in particular." He shrugged, "And it might be worthwhile for you to learn how to shoot." He looked at Alex again, and said, sharply. "If you think you can manage to get up at the same time as the men – and not wake anyone else in your barracks – I'll assign you to shoot with whichever unit is on the firing range that day."

Alex nodded, silently.

This was going to be a long, long, long fortnight.

* * *

And, there you have it. The long-awaited - well, the short-awaited - second chapter.

Man, I'm good. :P

lol, ami xxx


	3. Chapter 3

Darlings!

I return, with chapters!

And no AS Levels! God, I'm good. :D

To me, this feels like a bit of a non-chapter... but that's because I didn't actually have to _write_ very much. I mean, I wrote all of it, but it's all bits and pieces that I put together to form the chapter, stuff I'd already written. I hope it doesn't feel that disjointed to all of you!

This chapter is dedicated to everyone who's just taken their GCSEs - I hope everything went well for all of you!

And the story is dedicated to Von. She's gonna get bored of all these dedications pretty soon. :D

DISCLAIMER: **Still** not mine. The bastards.

* * *

Alex spent the hour before his mess duty catching up on some of the work he'd brought with him, which he'd missed over the last couple of terms. The other boys all filed in about half an hour later, but, for the most part, ignored him, and he continued to learn about 3D trigonometry and how to make yoghurt until a quarter to seven, when he headed out – amid some snide comments which he, in turn, ignored – to do his mess duty.

Alex was surprised, when he got there, to find that some members of the training facility hadn't left yet; from what he remembered of his time there, they had had a small window of time to eat in, before they were sent off to go and do some other activity. Only the instructors had had the time to stay after the meal.

He shrugged, and went back to his task, looking at the mess hall in front of him with a faint curl of despair in his stomach.

The SAS were, for the most part, relatively tidy. His year mates, on the other hand, were not – and there was food and mud apparently everywhere. Quite how they'd managed to get so dirty so quickly – they hadn't even done any activities today – he had no idea, but they'd left the evidence of it _everywhere_.

Sighing, he couldn't help but think that it was at least somewhat fair that someone who was part of the group who'd caused all the mess should clear it up, even if that person had to be him

He got a cloth and a broom from the grinning Head Chef – joke of a title there, as no one could exactly be proud of being in charge of serving up this slop – and started dealing with the mess.

The men he'd noticed earlier were still there, and they watched him as he began cleaning. They didn't pause in their talk, which was little more than a low hum from one corner of the room by the door, but Alex could feel their eyes on him. It was… disconcerting.

"Hey kid!" one of the men spoke up, grinning, after about half an hour. "Bit tougher than what you're used to, I bet, huh?"

Alex looked at the broom he had in one hand, and thought, briefly, of his rigorous, if short, training with Scorpia. Looking back up at the man, he shrugged, and when back to his work.

"I asked you a question." The man no longer sounded amused; not angry, just – well. Alex thought about it for a second; more slightly taken aback than angry; and possibly somewhat annoyed?

Alex stopped sweeping the floor for a second time, and shrugged again. "Not really." He looked more closely at the man, who looked strangely familiar. "Hang on." He said, suddenly, shock – or, at least, surprise – taking away his better good judgement, cutting the man off as he began to speak. "Wasp?"

He knew the moment he'd said it that he'd made a mistake – he should never have admitted to knowing this man. But it did, at least, explain why they were there, if they were already enlisted, rather than being more trainees. One of the other men grinned, slightly.

Wasp stopped, shutting his mouth and looking surprised, then suspicious. "How do you know that?"

The other man's grin grew.

Alex paused; surely he wasn't allowed to tell the man unless he already knew? In lieu of an actual answer, he shrugged, for what felt like the hundredth time, and said, rather weakly, "I heard someone talking to you."

He was saved from Wasp's response by Wolf's timely appearance.

"Cub." He growled, having first checked that there were no members of his class around. "Come on, I've got to issue you night equipment."

"Hang on," Wasp said, staring at Alex. "'Cub'? Little Cub? As in, Cub, the kid who got tacked on to your group?"

Alex grinned a little at that, rather amused; he'd never really thought about the way other groups saw him. It was strangely novel to get that sort of perspective on it.

Wolf looked at him, raising an eyebrow that effortlessly made the other man – fully qualified member of the SAS or not – squirm. "Yes, that Cub." He said, blandly. "He's here under cover, so anyone who calls him by his codename is going to end up with more punishment duty than sleep, alright?" he gave one of the other men – Alex thought he might have been called Falcon – a quick, pointed look. "So, if you think you're going to slip and call him 'Cub', you should just ignore him altogether. Otherwise, his name is Rider." He looked at the man who'd been grinning earlier, and said, quietly, "You've been briefed?" The man, Viper, nodded. Wolf nodded back, then looked back at Alex. "Cub. Come."

Alex followed him, obediently, when one of the men – Viper again – grabbed his arm.

"You're doing night manoeuvres with us tonight." He muttered. "Come to Barrack 12 at 2100 hours, and I'll brief you on it." He gave the kid a testing look. "Oh, and, next time you end up here, could you make sure that your cover doesn't involve twenty nine irritating children?"

He let Alex go, and, as he left, Alex heard the other men asking him questions about how he knew and 'what the kid was doing here'. Alex ignored them, and followed Wolf in silence.

* * *

"Here." The man threw a box of cam cream at him. "If I ever find this on you, or hear any of the other brats talking about you having it, I'll punish you for stealing it."

Alex nodded, pocketing it and taking the torch Wolf gave him.

The man gave him a piercing look. "You're going to get a gun tonight, when you get briefed. No magazine, or anything that could put you in a position to go on a – 'mad killing spree' was the way the Sergeant put it, I think." He gave him a slightly wry smirk, but it disappeared almost instantly. "It's just to get you used to running and moving with a gun, and not getting mud in the barrel, or dirt in any of the vital mechanisms."

Again, Alex nodded. "Thank you." He said, and if his voice was slightly sarcastic, neither of them mentioned it.

* * *

Alex didn't bother going back to the barracks his year group had been assigned; he had an hour before he had to go to Barrack 12, but if he didn't go back to his year group, he could say that mess duty had taken hours – make up something about sadistic Drill Sergeants, or something – rather than having to make up excuse to get out, and not come back till late. He had no idea how long this night manoeuvre was going to take, but hopefully everyone would be asleep by the time he got back, and he would escape questions on why he looked so muddy and dishevelled after 'mess duty'.

He spent his hour finishing off the mess duty he'd been assigned to, and made it to Barrack 12 at five to nine.

Viper looked up as he knocked, and straightened with a nod. "Cub." He said, shortly. "Come here."

Alex obeyed, looking down at the map that was spread out in front of him, frowning slightly in concentration. Viper looked at him.

"Name the problems that you see." He said, neutrally.

Alex frowned down at the map, and pointed to the place where their route apparently crossed the river. "There's no bridge here, unless they've built one…" he said, slowly. "So, unless it's both narrow and shallow there, which I doubt, we've got to ford it somehow… and here," he moved his finger to the wooded area they headed to, "is going to be hell to navigate in the dark." He bit his lip, frowning down at their marked route. "This bit there…" he said, very slowly. "That hill is way too steep to risk climbing in the dark – seems to be more of a cliff than a hill – but it's too large to take the time to go round it… this is a timed exercise, right?"

Viper was looking at him with something akin to approval. "Yes." He nodded, folding the map up again. "We've got two hours to complete it; as for that hill, we're just going to have to scale it. Every minute over is ten press ups, wasn't it?" he looked at Wasp, who nodded, absently, checking his kit. "We move out at 2130." He looked at his watch. "Wolf issued you with everything?"

Alex nodded.

"Adder, give Cub his gun." Alex accepted the gun from the dark, wiry man, with a silent nod of thanks. "Cub, you can strip that down and clean it while we wait."

He got the impression that this was yet another test, rather than something he was being told to do to keep him occupied – an idea that was backed up by the fact that Viper didn't take his eyes off him, as Alex began to strip the thing down.

He fumbled a few times as he did it, his mind second-guessing itself, even though his hands generally corrected any mistakes without much conscious thought. Laying the items out as he'd been ordered, he could see immediately that this gun was old, and hadn't been used in a while. It was filthy, and far from a new model; he thanked God that he'd been paying attention at Scorpia when they went through how to scour an old weapon into something serviceable.

Scorpia had one advantage over MI6, and that was that they never blindly expected to have the advantage. If old weapons were all they could find, their operatives were damn well going to be able to use them.

It would take him maybe twenty minutes to get this weapon serviceable but…Alex checked his watch. He had plenty of time.

He accepted the cleaning materials with a sharp glance and another nod of thanks, then settled down to cleaning the weapon.

By the time Viper told them they were to move out, he'd got the weapon at least half-way decent, and he was ready to go. In the dark, as they made their way out of the barrack, no one gave him a second glance.

* * *

The night manoeuvre was exhausting, even for the other men, and Alex thought that he could be excused wanting to drop by the time they got back to camp, at twenty past eleven that night. Technically, the route hadn't been that long – four kilometres. An average person can walk a kilometre in nineteen minutes, so, had it not involved various tricky areas, such as the river, and the overly steep hill, they'd have managed it in a bit under an hour and a half. The difficult bits had added a few minutes to their time, but, as Alex was reminded, the SAS were hardly put off by it; they took each challenge stoically, dealt with it, and forgot about it.

Wolf was waiting for them – or, it became obvious – for him, as the others headed for the man who'd set them the task.

"Cub." He said, sharply. "Over here." Alex trudged over to him. "How did you find it?" he asked, shortly.

Alex thought about it for a second. "Difficult. Interesting." He paused. "More difficult than interesting, though." He shrugged.

The man's teeth gleamed for a second as he grinned, wolfishly. "You'll get better at it." He promised.

"I'm doing this again?"

"Yes." Wolf told him, shortly. "Now, gun. Hand it over."

Alex gave in the gun with a sigh of relief. He would have sworn that the thing had got heavier throughout the mini-hike, shoulder strap or no shoulder strap.

There was a brief pause as Wolf checked the mechanism and nodded. "Good. Go and get some sleep."

Alex nodded, and set off for his barracks at a slow jog.

* * *

He'd had maybe three hours sleep when someone banged the door open, flicking the lights on.

"Everybody up!"

Alex glared at the speaker – Eagle – having woken up and rolled out of bed instantly on hearing the door open. Eagle gave him a wicked grin, and turned away, looking at the rest of his group.

"C'mon, children, up, up, up! We're all going for a nice long _run_ now. Everyone loves a good midnight run, don't they, Rider?"

Alex, who was half-way through tying his boots up while the rest of his class moaned, still half asleep, gave Eagle another withering glare. "Yes, sir." He told him, sarcastically. Eagle's grin grew slightly.

"Back talk, Rider?" he asked, cheerfully. "I think that's another hours punishment duty there…"

Alex sighed, and shrugged. He was too tired to bother with any actual back talk.

Alex was out of the barracks before any of his classmates were even out of bed, too damn tired, and too pissed off at having to do a damn run at two in the morning to bother about fitting in and looking normal. He just wanted to get this run over with, and then go back to bed.

Fox was stood outside, apparently waiting to direct them on the course. He grinned on seeing Alex, and said, "Morning, Rider." He checked that none of the other boys were nearby, "You've got a special course. Run up over Brannon's Hill, skirt the wood, and follow the track back here."

Alex sighed, remembering that route from his time spent at the camp earlier, when the this route had been a favourite of the Drill Sergeant for whenever he felt that they 'weren't doing enough', nodded, and took off.

* * *

He managed the two and a half kilometre run in about thirty five minutes, and arrived back at the barracks at a twenty to three in the morning. Fox was still sat there, reading something, and he looked up when he heard Alex approaching.

"Nice one, Cub." He said, cheerfully. "Longer route, and you're _still_ back before the rest of your class. Do you just not _have_ any long distance runners at your school, or something?"

Alex shrugged, breathing hard, and beginning some of the warming down exercises he'd been taught. He had absolutely no desire to spend the rest of his fortnight here with stiff muscles. "What have you told the others about why I did a different route?"

Fox stood and stretched, languorously. "Well, to begin with," he said, with a grin, "I don't think any of them would actually notice, the unobservant little brats," Alex let the comment pass for the moment, though he acknowledged it with a frown, "But we've told them that Wolf went with you on a shorter course, because you're 'sickly'." He shrugged. "Are you? Sickly, I mean?"

"No." Alex replied, shortly, "But, that's the excuse MI6 always gives for me." He walked past Fox, into the barracks, with a terse, rather final, "Good night."

Alex heard the others come in – and, equally, heard some of the resentful remarks they made about him – but pretended to be asleep. It wasn't worth the effort of trying to be nice to them at the moment.

* * *

He woke the next morning at ten to six, and slipped out of bed, dressing quickly and quietly, and heading out without waking anyone. Once he was outside, he ran down to the shooting range.

The other men – B-Unit, he was told – had only arrived a few moments before him, but they were quite obviously indisposed to like him, no matter how punctual he was. Alex had a sudden, rather darkly amused moment of déjà vu – their attitude was almost identical to K-Unit's when he'd first arrived at the Brecon Beacons – but swallowed it, and listened carefully to the instructions given by the Range Sergeant.

The man looked at him, with dislike. "I take it you're Cub?" he said, quietly. Alex nodded, warily. "Right then, _Cub_." The man handed him a gun, and said, rather unpleasantly, "Strip it down and reassemble it." He grinned, suddenly. "Just for a bit of added pressure, you men," finally, he looked away from Alex, "Can do press ups till he's done."

There was a lot of grumbling, and Alex received a number of glares. He sighed. Obviously, promoting camaraderie wasn't something this man was interested in.

Alex was grateful that he'd had the chance to practice stripping a gun down the night before, because he managed it in just over a minute. When he handed it back to the Range Sergeant, the man was looking at him, thoughtfully. "Not bad, Cub." He said, slowly. "Not bad at all." There was a pause, then he barked at the other men, "Right, get up, stop wasting time…!"

Alex spent the next half an hour shooting standing up, kneeling, and from the prone position – and, though the memories of it still made him shudder, he couldn't help but be grateful for the time he'd spent with Scorpia. They had honed his coordination to the point where a range like this, however advanced, was relatively easy.

After half an hour though, the Range Sergeant yelled for him to come over. Glancing over, Alex saw that Eagle had arrived at some point, and was watching him with the same thoughtful expression that the sergeant had adopted earlier, after he'd stripped the gun down and reassembled it.

He got up from the prone position, put the rifle down – after engaging the safety –and headed over to the man. "Yes?" he said, politely, glancing at Eagle.

"Your file with us says that you were pulled out of shooting practice last time you were here." The man said, rather gruffly. "You haven't missed a target once yet, and, believe me, I know that that's more than just luck. Where d'you learn to shoot?"

Alex would have shrugged, if he hadn't thought he'd get punishment duty. He couldn't tell them about Scorpia… for a second, he fished about for an excuse, and said, finally, rather slowly, "I got taught."

"I got that much, Cub." The man snapped. "By who?"

"Scorpia." He muttered.

"What was that?" The sergeant demanded.

"Scorpia." He said, more loudly, knowing that his reluctance was obvious on his face.

The sergeant frowned, as did Eagle. "_Scorpia_?" he repeated, rather incredulously. "The terrorist organisation?" his frown deepened into a glare as he looked at the boy, who met his gaze calmly. "What do you have to do with them?"

"If you're accusing me of being a terrorist, I'd stop and think about it." Alex told him, exasperatedly. "Would I just announce that if I was still working for them?" he sighed. "No, it was more a sort…" he shrugged, rather helplessly. "I dunno, a kind of, um… work experience."

The sergeant stared at him. "You did your work experience with Scorpia?"

"Sort of." Alex hedged, rather reluctantly. "I, er… yeah. I did a mission with them."

"And they taught you to shoot?"

"Yes, sir."

The sergeant paused. "What did they teach you to shoot with?"

"Most things." Alex said, slowly, "But they concentrated more on small arms."

The sergeant nodded, and turned back to the range assistant, who nodded, without having to be told anything.

Alex hefted the smaller firearm he was given in one hand, checked it over carefully, then nodded, sharply. "Right." He held out his hand for a magazine, and the man gave him two. He slipped one into the voluminous pocket of his combats, and slotted the other one into place, making sure the safety was on. He looked up at the Sergeant, his eyes sharp, expression focussed. "What do you want me to do?"

The sergeant's eyes were equally focussed. "One magazine from the shoulder, and the other from the hip."

With some reluctance, Alex nodded, and walked back to his position. Carefully, he checked the gun over once again – then he cocked the gun, took aim and shot, as fast as he could, as Scorpia had taught him. He didn't miss once, but then, he hadn't expected to; Scorpia had been far too thorough in their approach to this to allow for any of their students to miss.

He kept shooting until the magazine clicked empty, then the took it out, and replaced it with the full one. He repeated the same manoeuvre, shooting from the hip this time, with much the same results. When he finally stepped away from the target, though, the sergeant's eyes on his face were thoughtful once more.

Belatedly, he realised that B-Unit had stopped shooting, and had been watching him, but when he turned away, they all went back to their own targets. A couple of them gave him rather tentative grins, though.

When they left, one member of B-Unit fell into step with him – Eagle was behind him talking to a couple of the other men, but Alex caught the sharp glance "his" team mate gave the man – or possibly Alex himself, it was difficult to tell.

"Cub." He said, "I'm Hawk." Alex just nodded, and they walked on in relative silence. "So…" the man said, finally, "You, er…you worked with Scorpia?"

Alex nodded, again, rather warily this time. "Yeah. What about it?"

"That must have been – tough." Hawk said, rather leadingly, Alex thought.

He shrugged. "I guess." He agreed, and left it at that.

"C'mon, Cub, give a little." Hawk said, with a grin, though the camaraderie was tentative at best. "Y'know we're all desperate to know what the hell it is you do, and at least this way, you haven't got any rumours floating around…?"

Alex sighed. "Look, it's nothing interesting." He said, quietly. "I – was assigned a mission with them, because of…" he swallowed, "They'd sent a – threat. To the government. MI6 knew that Scorpia would jump at the chance to have someone as young as me working for them, so they gave me the assignment." It was a cover story Mrs. Jones had given him. Maybe that was why it didn't feel right to use it. It felt like he was covering up for himself at her expense; after all, he had tried to kill her.

"How do they train, though?" Hawk asked, intently. "I mean, shit, we've fought against them a couple of times, and the people they employ, and drill – they're good. How did you train?"

Alex shrugged again, uncomfortably. "They weren't training me as a soldier." He said, awkwardly. "I was an – assassin." Even now, it was difficult to admit that. "I think they train them differently."

"Probably." A voice said, from behind them, easily. "Hawk, stop bugging the kid, he wouldn't know what you're looking for anyway. And Cub, you'd better head back to your barracks if you don't want to get caught out." Eagle gave Alex a quick, rather tight grin. As Alex nodded, and moved off, he heard Eagle giving Hawk a sharp order to 'back off'. Frowning, he was out of earshot before Hawk replied.

* * *

When Alex got back to the barracks at about ten to seven, he found that no one in there was up, so, rather reluctantly, he went round opening curtains, and shaking the other boys awake, then pretended to be getting dressed himself, making as much noise as he could while doing it.

The other boys complained about it, but, on finding out what the time was, scrambled into their clothes, and trailed down to breakfast, bleary-eyed and yawning.

As he entered the mess hall, Alex caught Wolf's eye. The man met his gaze levelly for about ten seconds, then nodded at him, and looked away. Next to him, Fox grinned, gleefully, and Alex sighed. Nothing that could make Fox look that cheerful this early could possibly be good.

* * *

Bleh. I hope _you_ liked it!

lol, ami xxx


	4. Chapter 4

Shorter than usual, because I'm typing at two in the morning, and I'm knackered. But, I hope you like it! Tis dedicated to Von, on this, her birthday. Happy birthday, love! Hope you like your present. :P

DISCLAIMER: Oh, the fun I could have, if Alex Rider were mine.

* * *

"Now, kiddies." It was Eagle speaking, much to Alex's surprise, "We've arranged a real treat for you this morning; an obstacle course…"

Immediately on hearing that, the class broke out into a series of excited murmurs, refusing to quieten down even when faced with Wolf's most evil glare. Alex, who knew what the SAS classed as 'obstacle courses', was the only one who couldn't muster up any enthusiasm, but he did manage to eke up a smile for Tom, when his friend grinned at him.

"Shut it." Wolf said, finally, allowing some of his overwhelming irritation to colour his tone. "Now."

Fear – and with it, silence – reigned supreme after a mere second or so.

"Before we brief you on your morning's activities, we're going to clear up this issue with names. I am _not_ going to learn your name, and neither is anyone else – not unless you're a trouble maker." Alex endured the sideways glances and smug looks in silence. "And trust me when I tell you that you do not want to see any of us when we're angry. Normally, when you get here, you've proved that it's worth giving you a codename," A brief ripple of interest spread through the class, "And you get issued one, generally some sort of animal – it's easiest…"

Even Wolf looked taken aback at how quickly the noise erupted after that little announcement.

"I want Panther!"

"Bags I Leopard!"

"I want to be Hummingbird!"

"Shotgun Storm…"

Wolf bit his lip. _Must not kill children. Must not kill innocent, irritating children_. He reminded himself, firmly. "If you don't all shut up in five seconds, you're all going to be running sprints for the next hour." He threatened, loudly, over the cacophony. They quieted quickly, and he continued, voice firm and ever so slightly menacing. "I _said_, you're generally proved that it's worth giving you a codename. None of you have proved that it's worth it, and I can't be bothered to learn whatever ridiculous name you come up with for a fortnight. You're _all_ going to be referred to as 'maggot'. And you had better damn well be paying attention when I'm speaking, because if you answer for someone else, or don't answer when I'm talking to you, you'll be on punishment duty so fast it'll make your head spin."

Alex watched with interest as Eagle half-hid a smirk at that.

One of the braver – or stupider – girls pulled a face, saying, in a voice of mixed terror and disgust, "I'm not going to be called 'maggot' – it's disgusting!"

Wolf gave her a look of absolute disdain. "You'll be called whatever I say, have you got that?"

"But it's horrible!" she said, rather weakly.

Wolf ignored her completely. "Any other complaints? Thought not." He paused for a brief second, and smiled, tightly, without warmth or amusement. "This 'obstacle course'," he shot Eagle a rather dirty look, "Is an exercise in stamina and team work. You're going to be divided up into groups of five, and dropped of five kilometres away from a central point. The first group to et there is the winner – which means that they're the only group who _won't_ be cleaning this camp when they get back here. Is that understood?"

There was no noise, except a couple of nods.

Snake spoke up next, for what Alex was pretty certain was the first time in front of his classmates. "You're going to have to help each other during this; that's the main point of the exercise – and increase your stamina, which is probably pitiful for most of you." he paused, let it sink in, and said, "Right. I'm going to divide you up into your groups now. I don't want to hear any complaints, do you understand?" They nodded, less cowed than by Wolf, but silent nonetheless.

The dividing-up process was short and brutal, and Alex had forgotten one very simple thing.

There were thirty one people in his class.

Fox grinned down at him. "Looks like you're just going to have to do it on your own, Rider." Alex was about to nod, when he remembered that that probably wouldn't fit with the idea his classmates had of him as a sickly, whiny trouble-maker.

"That's not fair." He whined, angrily. "You're not being fair!"

Fox frowned a second, then apparently caught on. "I don't if it's fair, sunshine, you're going to have to do it alone."

"Why can't I just do it with another group?" he asked, whinging. "It doesn't matter if one team's got more than five people in it…"

"Well, we say it does, so you can just shut the hell up." Wolf said, from behind him, and Alex shut his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was pick a fight with Wolf, even for the sake of his cover; it just wasn't worth it, not when he knew that Wolf was liable to kick his arse the moment the rest of his class weren't there. "Drop 'em off." He ordered tersely, and Alex let himself be herded into the van with the rest of his year-mates, with Viper driving, and K-Unit sat in the back with 'the kids'.

* * *

It took maybe fifteen minutes to get all the other kids to their starting points, but Viper's driving could easily have got him booked, if he'd been driving somewhere civilised. Alex, sat alone at the back of what he was convinced was the most uncomfortable truck in the history of motoring, felt as though someone had been making a concerted attempt to rearrange his skeleton – and he definitely noticed when the man made a sharp right turn and headed further out down a half-overgrown little track.

Wolf stood – at grievous risk to his life, Alex couldn't help but feel – and made his way over to him, at the back of the van.

"Your route is longer, and more difficult than the rest of the little brats." He told him, as brusque as ever. "And if you're not back at the same time as the rest of them, you'd better have a fucking good excuse, do you understand?"

Alex nodded, silently. "Map?"

Wolf handed him a compass. "You want to be heading round South West. Ish."

Alex frowned, lightly. "And – how long should I be walking for?"

"Your route is about eight or nine kilometres. I think. You'll know when you get to the end, we'll be waiting for you in this thing, ready to cart you all back to camp again for your lunch." He paused. "Oh, and Cub? Two hours of punishment duty. For back-talk."

Alex didn't dignify that with a response.

* * *

The road was, as he had expected, muddy, long and tiring, and, with nothing but a compass to guide him, he felt that arriving second to last, out of a group of people who had had an easier route than him, wasn't that unimpressive.

Wolf didn't seem to agree.

"Slacking off, Rider?" he asked, giving him a particularly pointed glare. "You'd better get your act together, if you don't want even more punishment duty."

Alex glared right back at him, then caught one of the more persistent girls in his class staring at him, face confused and worryingly curious. Smoothing his features into blankness, he nodded silently at Wolf, and blended back in with his classmates.

"I was going to schedule something nice and easy for this session – let you all relax after your little walk this morning." Wolf said, coolly, looking them over. "But then you all proved to be so completely useless at it, it was obvious you weren't trying, so I'm sure you've got plenty of energy left for self-defence."

A couple of the braver teenagers groaned, or sighed, but fell silent when they caught Snake's pointed stare, from behind Wolf's back.

"First, has anyone ever done a martial art before?" Eagle asked, stepping forwards, face surprisingly serious, for him. They had discussed – briefly – the best way to go about teaching this class, and it had been decided that if there were people who had some idea of what they were doing, they could separate those with experience into a higher-skill group, leaving them open to teach the rest of the brats how to punch straight.

A four or five people raised their hands – briefly, Alex managed to catch Wolf's, half-cocking his head questioningly, trying to work out whether he should pretend to be a novice, or not. Wolf nodded, slightly, and Alex raised his hand slowly. Neither of them noticed the girl from earlier – Becky Johnson – watching the little exchange.

"Name, grade, and discipline." Eagle said, sharply, running through those who had raised their hands. There were a variety of skills – from white belt to red, quite literally – until it got to Alex.

"Rider." Eagle smirked at him. "You surprise me. You actually bothered to work at something?" Alex caught a couple of sly smiles on the faces of his class-mates. "Grade and discipline."

"Karate, Second Dan." Alex admitted, quietly and rather unwillingly. Those who knew what that signified turned to look at him, slightly surprised. Everyone knew that Alex Rider could fight, ever since he'd dealt with the notorious school bullies a couple of years ago, but no one had ever considered that he might have been trained to do so.

"Perfect." Wolf said, with a grin. "You just volunteered to help with the demonstration. Up here."

Reluctantly, Alex picked his way through his classmates, and stood in front of Wolf, awkward at being stared at, projecting unease. Snake caught a few nasty grins directed at Cub from some of the boys in his class, obviously expecting – possibly even hoping – to see Alex having the shit beaten out of him.

"In a real fight," Wolf began, sizing Cub up, just as the boy was sizing him up, "Your opponent wouldn't hold anything back. This is supposed to be a proper demonstration, so I don't intend to either. I'm trying to teach you lot, not mollycoddle you, and if Rider can't defend himself as he should be able to, then he's about to learn that lesson very quickly." He turned back to Alex. "If you can hit me five times, Rider, I'll tack back the punishment I gave you earlier for your backtalk."

Alex just nodded, putting up a rather tentative guard.

Wolf's first punch was anything but gentle, but Alex wasn't there to receive it. He had stepped to one side, stepping in with a reverse knife hand strike to Wolf's throat, which the man blocked, and returned with a punch to Cub's stomach – the first hit of the fight.

Cub half doubled up, but managed to recover far more quickly than Wolf had been expecting, which earned him a punch to the face, hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to bruise – badly.

The fight lasted for three minutes exactly, Snake calling time from his watch. Wolf noted with interest that Cub stuck to the defensive, making sure to hit him just the five times, and no more. Stopping, he shook hands with the kid, making a show of unwillingness, saying,

"Good fight. And, your punishment is taken back."

"What's the catch?" Alex muttered, so low that Wolf was sure only he heard it.

"No catch." He murmured back, and Alex had almost got back to his peers when Wolf called after him, "Oh, but, Cub?" He turned back, meeting his eyes squarely. "Two hours punishment duty for hitting an officer."

* * *

Becky Johnson cornered Alex after supper that night, just as he was leaving the mess to head back to the barracks before his duty started. Her eyes were wide and interested, and Alex knew, with a sinking certainty, that he wasn't going to get out of this.

"You know that man – Wolf – don't you?" she said, voice too certain for it to be a real question.

Alex wanted to panic, but refused to let himself. It was somehow different to be accused like this by someone his age who he neither really liked, nor wanted to know. Meeting her eyes with carefully constructed surprise, he said, voice laced with a heavy hint of shock, "What the hell…?! No, of course I've never met him!"

"Then you've heard of him, or he knows you." She said, the absolute certainty not leaving her voice. "He's too nasty to you for you to just have met him."

"I think he's a bastard, and he wanted a scapegoat." Alex said, with more honesty than he usually showed. In this case, being honest and open made him look naïve and a little stupid, and that was rather how he liked his classmates to think of him. "And I was an easy one to pick out, wasn't I?"

"No, it's not that." She returned, almost completely ignoring him. Then her eyes flew to his, wide and shocked. "Oh my god!" she half shrieked it. "I know what it is?"

"Becky, what are you going on about!?" he asked, trying not to sound too impatient.

"He's your father, isn't he?!"

* * *

And there you have it.

(smirk)

Hope you enjoyed!

-ami xxx


	5. Chapter 5

(waves enthusiastically)

HEYA, PEOPLE!!!

...ahem.

Well, sorry for the long update-wait, folks; I have A-levels in my life now. And UCAS applications. For those of you who live outside the UK, and are - I think - spared this torture: UCAS is the University and College Admissions Service (again, I think), and it's one long form you have to fill in, straight from the seventh circle of hell; I'm writing my Personal Statement at the moment, which is, um... yes. Difficult. Someone told me that the easiest thing to do was to ring up someone who knows you, and ask them what they think your good points are. It went down a real storm. I, being stupid, rang up my brother.

Yeah, it was a real short conversation. The git.

It had the side effect of making my Personal statement very short as well, so some over-worked, over-stressed Admissions tutor SOMEWHERE, is going to love me.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter, despite it being so short; this un's an extra EXTRA big one - 21 pages! (proud) - to make up for it. Dedicated, as always, to Von, who put up with all my mopes and whines during the creation stage of the chapter, as well as my period of INTENSE writer's block. Seriously, it was nasty. And dedicated to my mother, who doesn't know that I write fanfiction - I'm convinced she thinks 'fanfic' is some kind of STD - but encourages me blindly in everything I do anyway.

DISCLAIMER: ...hands up those of you who _genuinely thought _I wrote and owned Alex Rider?

Yeah, exactly.

* * *

Alex stared at her in something like horror. "My _father_?" he repeated, in a tone of absolute shock. Becky nodded enthusiastically.

"It all fits!" she said, adamantly. "I mean, he's unreasonably nasty to you, and why would he bother if he didn't know you? And he gave you a nickname-"

"He did?" Alex frowned.

"Yeah, he called you 'Cub', during that martial arts class…" By now, Alex noticed, warily, there were other people leaving the dining room, and he didn't want anyone overhearing this before he could convince Becky of how wrong she was. "Why would he give you a nickname if you weren't close?" she continued, oblivious, and Alex grimaced at the idea of him and Wolf being 'close'. "And I bet all those punishment hours he gives you are just a cover up to spend time with you, right? I mean, he can't see you that often, what with being in the SAS and all…"

Alex stared at her. Quite how someone could be so wilfully stupid was utterly beyond him. "Becky." He said, clearly. "Listen, OK? Wolf is _not_ my father. I look like my father, I don't look _anything_ like Wolf-"

"You've both go brown eyes." She said, as though that solved that.

"Yeah, and _you've_ got brown eyes, but that doesn't make you my sister, does it?" he snapped back. He really didn't have the energy for this. "Look, Wolf just doesn't like me. I don't know why, and I don't know why he called me 'Cub', or whatever – probably just to take the piss out of me, or something, I don't know… And trust me when I tell you that I do _not_ want to spend time with Wolf. And he very much doesn't want to spend time with me, so please, just give it up, alright? He's not my father, he just hates me because he's a bastard."

"But-"

"Oh, give it a _rest_, please!" he snapped, and stomped off. When he was out of sight, he stopped, relaxing a little into the shadows. He was pretty certain that he hadn't convinced her at all, but maybe his attitude at the end there was enough to dissuade her from mentioning her little theory to anyone else.

"No chance." He muttered to himself, watching carefully as his class went past, before heading back down to the mess-hall. He really needed to have a word with Wolf.

* * *

In the mess – which was practically empty now, except for a few of the enlisted men who had arrived later than all of the others, and one of which was, thankfully, Wolf – he waited, patiently and in silence, for the man to notice him. Eventually, Eagle, who was sat on the other side of the table, and could actually see Alex, caught Wolf's eye, and nodded towards him; Wolf glanced up. "Cub." He frowned, darkly. "What do you want?"

Alex paused, unsure of how to go about saying this. "Um…basically…" he paused, trying to frame the thought.

"Get on with it." Wolf snapped, impatiently.

"This girl in my class thinks that you're my father." He said, simply, and watched – with no small amount of amusement – as Wolf's frown darkened into an outright glare, and the other men sat around him snorted.

"Why the hell would she think that?" Snake asked, with a grin. "He's not exactly paternal with you."

Alex shrugged, but offered him a small smile in return. "Apparently, his attitude towards me is to hide his feelings of love and affection. And all the punishment duty I get given is in order to give him an excuse to 'spend time with me' because he can't see me often, 'what with being in the SAS'."

"She is actually insane." Eagle said, in a tone of wide-eyed awe, while the other men did their best to hide their grins. "I mean, we're not talking half-way, slightly batty here, we're talking fully and totally mental. So far round the twist you could open a bottle of wine with her."

Alex shrugged. "Yeah, well… I just thought you should know."

Wolf directed his impressive glare at him – behind him, one of the D-Unit men whispered, "Oh, look, a moment of father-son bonding, right there", and Wolf nearly spat – and said, firmly, "So, what did you tell her?"

"I said she was insane." Alex returned, calmly. "And she gave me her reasons, and I said she was talking rubbish – but I can't really prove her wrong, can I? I mean, it's not like I can say, 'actually, you know, Becky, I get picked on and given punishment duty so that I can be taught how to be a better spy for MI6 – you do know that I work for them, right?', can I?"

Wolf shrugged, and Snake spoke up, thoughtfully. "Maybe the best thing to do is just to agree with her – say that yes, Wolf is your father, and that your mother died, and he hates you because of that, or something."

"Yeah," Eagle agreed, "That's a brilliant idea. And, next week, on this exciting new series of 'SAS Soap-Opera'…"

Snake half-heartedly threw a bread-crust at him. "Got any better ideas, genius?"

"He could always just ignore it, and give this kid weird looks every time she goes past, that generally works." Fox suggested. "Better still, you could get all of your friends to give her weird looks, make it not worth her while to mention it again…?"

"Oh, right, so, all two of my friends then, sure." Alex muttered, but only Wolf seemed to catch it. Miraculously, the man chose not to call him on it, instead shooting him a look, and turning back to Fox, shaking his head,

"No, I think we need something more proactive." He said, slowly.

"James, I don't think that your trademark 'beat them into submission' is really such a good idea for this situation." Snake said, slowly.

Wolf favoured him with a low-level glare. "I haven't beaten anyone up who wasn't our enemy at the time."

"OK, so what did Jackal do?" Eagle asked, with a grin. Wolf gave him a confused look. "You know… tall guy, F-Unit's linguist…?"

Wolf shrugged. "You did _not_ want to hear the things he was saying about your girlfriend." He told him, casually. The grin disappeared. Wolf turned back to Alex, and said, slowly. "Look, just ignore it, and laugh at it if it gets brought up, OK?" he paused. "But I'm not slowing down on the punishment duty thing. There's no point you being here if you're just pissing around doing the basic exercises. You can do better than that."

To Alex's everlasting shock, there were even a few of murmurs of agreement from a couple of the other men. A little unsure of what to do with the information he'd just received, he nodded, uncertainly. "OK… then, I should maybe do something to really warrant it. You know, piss you off, whine a lot, or something." He shrugged, with a wry grin. "More than usual, I should say."

Wasp, from D-Unit, gave him a considering glance. "It's really not that bad an idea…" he said, slowly, "But you're going to have to wait a bit, if you really want that girl to shut up with her whole, Luke Skywalker 'I-am-your-father' deal. Otherwise she'll say that it was some shit like you were trying to take advantage because he's your dad." He couldn't quite suppress his grin at that.

Alex nodded. "Sure." He turned to leave, when Wolf called him back,

"Hey, Cub, don't you have two hours punishment duty?"

Alex sighed. "Yeah?"

"Then you can start by clearing this place up. Those friends of yours really took it to hell and back, and it's – whatcha-may-call-it – character building."

"Joy." Alex muttered, and went to get a dustpan and brush.

* * *

Alex headed down to the shooting range the next morning with a fair degree of reluctance, unsure of the reaction he was going to get, and too tired to be sure that he could deal with too much hostility from the rest of the men today.

He was shocked, then, when the reactions he got off most of the other men were relatively friendly – one or two of them that he recognised even asked him how he was doing. Alex only just managed to stop himself from asking, harshly, why the hell they were interested, but he returned civil – if short and surprised – answers. There wasn't much time for 'idle chit-chat', as the range sergeant put it – there never was with the SAS. They didn't believe in rest and relaxation; Alex could attest to that. His bullet wound was seriously beginning to hurt, from lying on the rough gravel in the range, following up on twinges he'd been having since they arrived, and started on the SAS exercises.

Alex was scheduled attend a lecture on correct use of firearms that night – "I don't care who you have to kill to get there, Cub, but you _will_ get there and you will pay attention, do you understand?!" – and as he left, he was met, once more, by Eagle.

"How you doing, Cub?" he asked, casually, picking his way carefully around a large puddle in the middle of the dirt track, careful not to get any mud on his admirably shiny boots.

"Tired, thanks. You?" Alex muttered.

Eagle grinned, teeth white and even against his tanned skin; briefly, Alex wondered where he'd been stationed, to have a tan that good in England in the middle of March. Somehow, he doubted that the man had been hitting the sun-beds. "Feeling better now that I'm bathing in the warm light of your full attention."

"Sarcasm gets you nowhere." Alex returned, absently.

"Oh, I don't know… I think Wolf secretly kinda likes it." Eagle bantered back, lightly. "He's just not good at – vocalising – his approval."

Alex shot an amused sideways glance at him. "Oh! So you and him _are_…" he gestured vaguely, giving the man a wide-eyed, interested look. "So, what _is_ he good at vocalising?" For a moment, Eagle just stared at him, totally horror-struck. Then, slowly – very slowly – he started to chuckle.

"Oh, you got _good_ while you were away! You were never this interesting before!"

"Yeah, well. You were kind of intimidating last time I was here." Alex shrugged, for once not thinking so carefully before he spoke, and giving a little more than he might have otherwise. There was no bullshit about 'feeling like he could trust them', but he did feel more secure about what he said with them than he did with his classmates, and even that small degree of extra freedom with his words was heady.

"Intimidating?" Eagle repeated, slowly. "Really?"

Alex gave him an incredulous glance, rubbing absent-mindedly at the scar on his chest. "Eagle. I'm fourteen, and you're what, twenty six? Twenty seven? You were training for the SAS, and you never spoke; and there was about a foot in height difference. Oh, and you carried a large gun with you most of the time. D'you want to point out exactly what _isn't_ intimidating about that?"

Eagle considered it for a long moment. "Yeah… I guess we were kind of intimidating." He paused, then added, in a tone of mock-hurt, "And I'm twenty four."

"You think?" Alex asked, sarcastically, but without heat, ignoring the last remark, but storing it away for later use. "And anyway… Wolf was the worst."

"He was frightened, though he'd never say it." Eagle said, quietly, with surprising insight. "Of failing – of you making us fail." He elaborated, with a slightly ashamed smile. "We were all worried about that."

"Yeah? Well, I was terrified of all of you." Alex said, candidly, turning away to head down to the barracks where the rest of his year were still asleep.

"Hey, Cub!" Eagle called after him, and Alex turned, looking up at him, squinting a little in an attempt to pick out the other man's features against the light behind him. "We never found out. Why were you here in the first place?"

Alex paused, thinking through the safest response, before taking refuge, as he so often did, in sarcasm. "They asked me nicely." He said, dryly, and left Eagle there, heading back to the barracks.

* * *

"Alex." Ben Ashley said, surprised, looking up as he got in, the only boy out of the twelve or so in Alex's class to acknowledge him as he walked in – Tom was still asleep. "Where've you been?"

Alex offered the other boy a weak smile, and wished, not for the first time, that he could be wholly honest. "I – couldn't sleep." He said, with a shrug and a slightly apologetic smile. "Got up for some fresh air."

Will Hartford brushed past him. "Next time, wake the rest of us up, fuckwit."

Alex frowned at him. "What did you call me?"

Hartford just offered him a mocking frown. "Oh, are you going to beat me up with your ninja skills, Rider? Or will you get _Daddy_ to do it for you?"

Alex forced a grin onto his face. "Oh, _right_. So Becky told you her theory about Wolf being my dad, then?"

Ben took a rather uncertain step forward. "He's not, right, Alex?"

Alex took one deep, calming breath, and gave Ben a quick smile. "'Course not. He's not old enough to be my Dad." Alex had had a couple of hours to think up arguments against that particular theory last night, during his 'character building' punishments, and that was the most glaringly obvious.

For a second, even Hartford looked a little taken aback. Then he shrugged. "Doesn't matter. You're still a twat."

"And you're as mature as ever, Hartford." Alex shrugged. "If you can't drag yourself out of bed, it's not my problem."

Hartford didn't even bother trying to come up with a reply for that one.

Alex waited – at Tom's request – while the shorter boy got dressed, then made the other boy run with him down to the mess hall.

"Rider." Wolf let Tom go past, then put an arm out onto the doorframe, blocking Alex from getting in. "You're late. And tardiness costs lives, y'know (1), so that's – oh… say, an hour's punishment duty?"

Alex sighed. "Sir." He nodded, reluctantly, and Wolf let him past, with a not-quite-friendly grin.

"You have five minutes to eat, Rider. And if you haven't finished…" he shrugged. "You don't eat. That simple."

"I love you too." Alex muttered under his breath, careful not to let any of his classmates hear him. God only knew how they would react to a statement like that, sarcastic or not, with the rumour about Wolf being his father flying around.

He couldn't help but wonder why Wolf was in a good mood. That was the closest to cheerful he'd ever seen the dark, dour man; apparently, torturing teenagers cheered him up a treat.

* * *

That soon became abundantly clear when they got out of the mess hall, exactly five minutes later. 

"Right, kidlets." It was Eagle again; Wolf had obviously decided that his taller team-mates unique blend of intimidation and idiocy was the ultimate torture weapon. Alex didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Today, as a quick warm up, we're going to introduce you to our assault course – best in the world, apparently." He treated them to a wide smile. A couple of the stupider members of Alex's class actually smiled back.

Alex actually winced.

"It's only kilometre long." Wolf said, with his own grin – though he received none in return. For once, Alex and the rest of his class seemed to be of one mind; Wolf smiling could only mean large amounts of pain. "And you've all got twenty five minutes to complete it."

Snake stepped forwards, saying quietly, "To avoid all of you scrambling over each other, and someone getting hurt," Alex remembered, vaguely, that Snake had been assigned as K-Unit's medic early on in their training; it didn't surprise Alex in the slightest that he was the one worrying about people getting hurt. "You're going to do this in teams of five again, one team at a time. Those who are waiting will be warming up with me and Fox, and Eagle and Wolf will be at the other end. I'm sure they'll think something up for you."

Alex was actually assigned a group this time, probably to allay suspicions that he was getting any kind of special treatment – but he began to wish, almost immediately, that he was on his own. Not only was it going to be extremely difficult to hid the fact that he was – unwillingly, painfully – familiar with this course, his team mates were all so _irritating_.

"We need to help each other over." One boy, Adam, said, a little patronisingly. He'd appointed himself the leader of their little group of five. "And, Rider, try not to slow us down, OK?" His classmates were fast catching on to K-Unit's disdainful dismissal of Alex, and comments like that were the result.

Alex kind of wished that he could bring himself to care about that. It would be normal to care about remarks like that; but he didn't. It just seemed so – unimportant.

He just nodded, a faint hint of mockery in his tone and expression, as he replied, gravely, "Of course. I'll try not to."

Behind him, Fox smothered a grin. As Adam opened his mouth to say something further too Alex, he clapped a hand on Alex's shoulder – making him tense – and said, cheerfully, "Well, you lot seem to have it all worked out. You can go first!"

"Oh, thank you." Alex muttered. None of his peer group heard him, but Fox – who was standing right behind him, after all – did, and he shot him a quick, amused look.

"Off you go then." He ordered, a wicked gleam in his eyes. Alex sighed and headed over to the start, lagging a little way behind the rest of his team, careful to look reluctant and a little apprehensive. There was no way he wanted to go fuelling any other rumours, not when he already had enough to deal with.

* * *

Alex got to the end of the course nearly a full half hour later, willing either to kill or cry with frustration. His team had whinged and faltered their way over the thing, far from 'sorted out', as Fox had implied that they were, and there had been times when Alex had literally had to fight to get them to keep going. He had chivvied and persuaded, and pushed, had scaled the wall first to help the others up, demonstrated the basic manoeuvres, and made sure that everyone was together before they moved on, with the useless but vocal contributions of Adam, and he was tired. And deeply, deeply frustrated.

He could willingly have throttled the girl who had started crying when she fell into the pit of muddy slime under the rope jump for the third time – and had resisted the urge to point out that it had been him who had had to leap for the rope the first time in order to get it, and that it had been him who had fished her out _every single time_, when she bitched at him for being 'unsympathetic'. And he very happily did smack the boy who seemed on the verge of hysterics when he couldn't get him over the wall.

Alex had started the course with the firm intention of sitting back and simply following; he had no desire to be 'outed' as competent. Then his 'team' had proved to be so amazingly useless, and it was either betray a degree of competence, or end up with enough punishment duty to ensure an extra week in this place.

"Well – I think that went rather well." Adam said, pompously, when it was finally – finally – over. Alex was the only one who wasn't out of breath; not only had the pace been slow, he'd spent so much time after he'd completed the exercises helping the others over them that he hadn't had a chance to lose his breath.

Wolf, from behind them, said, acidly, "It was shocking. If I didn't have to five more groups like you over this thing, I would make you do it again – and again – until you finally got it. Do you understand?"

Adam, cowed, just nodded.

* * *

Ben and Tom were both in the next group, and Alex watched as they made it over the course. They honestly weren't bad; not great, but they were practical and as fast as they could be expected of fourteen year olds. They both needed to work on their economy of movement, Alex noted, rather absently, a skill he himself had learnt from nearly a year of being shot at. Fitness could probably be upped a little on Ben's side, but all in all, they were pretty good. Far better than most of the others.

Alex's little group had been set to running half-sprints, as Wolf called them – a there-and-back deal of maybe ten metres both ways, at half the speed of a sprint. "It'll help you with your stamina," he'd said, giving all of them a long, disdainful look. "God knows you'll need it."

Because he was concentrating on Tom and Ben doing the course, he didn't notice the foot Eagle – very childishly, Alex thought, murderously – stuck out in front of him, until he was a couple of steps from it; he ground to a halt, and the man took advantage of his distraction to tip him over into the mud.

As he lay, face first in too much Welsh mud, his scar throbbing painfully from the impact with the ground, and scrambling to get back up, two boots planted themselves in front of him, and Alex looked up to meet Eagle's grin.

"Rider." He said, loudly and cheerfully. "Stay behind at the end. If you can't stay on your feet, we're just going to have to teach you how to."

Alex stifled a groan.

* * *

Two hours later, the other teenagers had just finished the course, and they were all in the middle of being berated by Wolf.

"The aim of this was to get you working as teams, you idiotic brats." He said, quietly; it would have been preferable if he had screamed at them. Wolf sounded deadly when he was quiet. "If you can't work together, there is _no point_ you being here, do you understand?" There were a couple of scattered nods. "So you'll be doing this again, tomorrow, in different groups. You need to be able to work together here. Heroes get killed, is that clear? There is no point trying to be better than everyone else at the expense of your team mates."

A few more nods, and Wolf audibly smothered a sigh. "You're the most depressing bunch of useless idiots I've ever come across." He told them, equably, and a couple of the more intuitive teenagers winced. Despite the tone, the words were meant to hurt. "And, just as a heads up, you'll be doing this course again tomorrow morning, and every other morning for the rest of your stay. If it _ever _– ever, do you understand? – take this long again, you will all be using toothbrushes to clean out the showers. Is that clear?" No one answered; Wolf nodded. "Right. Get."

"Rider, you stay behind!" Eagle called over the slow building noise of thirty-odd children chattering. "We need to teach you how to walk, apparently." The rest of Alex group smothered grins, and set about telling the rest of his class what had happened. "The rest of you, get out of here. Snake's going to take you for first aid, the poor bastard."

Alex was left alone with Eagle and Fox, who gave him near-on identical evil grins.

"What?" he asked, resignedly.

"What was your time, the last time you were here?" Fox asked, casually.

"For the assault course?"

"No, for making fairy cakes." Eagle returned, but his words lacked bite.

"Seventeen minutes." Alex told him, warily. "Why?"

Eagle grinned, and Fox produced a stop watch from one of the voluminous pockets on his combat gear. "If you can't better that time now, you'll be left doing this assault course in every minute of spare time you get until you can." He said, sweetly.

Alex sighed.

* * *

He managed the course in sixteen minutes and twenty three seconds, due to the increased fitness and improved instincts which were the only things he had his MI6 experience to thank for. Fox stopped the watch, and nodded at him, silently, offering a quick smile.

"Walk about." Eagle advised him, practically, when Alex seemed inclined just to double over and pant. "Else your muscles will seize up."

"Captain Obvious strikes again." Alex shot back, but took his advice.

"That wasn't bad, Cub." Fox said, quietly. "I guess MI6 has been useful for something, huh?"

Alex just shrugged. "I guess."

"Are you…" Fox broke off, frowning. "What do you _do_ for Special Ops, anyway?"

"I…" he stopped. "Whatever they ask me to." He hedged, carefully. For a second there, he had actually been about to tell them, which would have been a fantastically bad idea.

Fox nodded, cottoning on. "Sorry."

"Why you, though?" Eagle asked, cautiously, as Alex stopped walking, his breath back to normal; Alex was reminded of Eagle's question from earlier. Apparently, his older team-mates were determined to find out why they'd been saddled with him. "Oh, and, impressive recovery rate, by the way."

"Thanks." Alex acknowledged, briefly, then paused, thinking through his response. Much though he might like to be able to tell the truth to someone who would understand – Jack was kind and sympathetic, but she didn't fully get the situation he was in – he genuinely didn't dare. He just didn't know what the consequences would be – or who would have to pay them. "And I don't know why it's me." He decided on, after a brief, almost unnoticeable pause; this was as safe a response as any. "They asked me, I said yes."

There was no point going into all of the issues surrounding his uncle's death, and MI6s blackmail. There was nothing that could be done about it; there was no point revisiting it. The safest thing to do now was try and forget about it, and make sure that no one else was affected by it.

* * *

That afternoon, after the first aid session – "I'm not here to teach you how to put plasters on each other's fingers, I'm here to teach you field dressings, and in your current situation, you may need this, so pay attention, alright?" – they were herded back into the main hall where they had had martial arts the day before, and Wolf stood in front of them again.

"Martial arts are going to be important to you if you ever need to defend yourself, alright?" he said, "If you get attacked, and you don't know how to fight, we can teach you how teamwork as much as we like, but it's not going to help."

One of the braver – and possibly more sensible girls – raised her hand. "Does that mean you're going to teach us how to shoot?"

Wolf looked at her, flatly. "You'd have to have guns with you for that to be any use, and that's not going to happen. We're brave, not suicidal."

She flushed, and subsided. Wolf looked back at them, searching for someone in particular, in silence. A couple of people shifted, uncomfortably.

Finally, he met Alex's eyes, and said, voice curt, "Rider. You're going to be helping out, since you're so… good." It sounded nothing like a compliment. Alex frowned, debated, momentarily, whether or not to risk a pout, and nodded.

The rest of the group were divided up into two; those who had studied a martial art before, along with those who showed some aptitude, were in one group, and the complete beginners were in another, studying with Snake and Fox – apparently, those two had been designated the 'nice' pair. Alex's job was, according to Wolf, to help out anyone who seemed to be having real difficulties, and just to follow the exercises in the beginners group, as an example.

For maybe the first twenty minutes, everything went smoothly – Snake and Fox took them through what they'd been doing the day before, with surprising patience, reminding them of basic blocks and counter-attacks, before going on to slightly more complicated things.

"If someone grabs you by the shoulders," Snake said, clearly, "You've got two responses. It depends, of course, how strong their grip is. For instance, if Rider here grabbed me," he gestured at Alex to do so; awkwardly, Alex put his hands on his shoulders, "The grip would be weak enough for me to simply twist away." He did so, and Alex forced himself to flush, and caught, out of the corner of his eye, a couple of nasty smirks from his classmates. "If, on the other hand, Fox was to grab me," Fox did so without having to be prompted, "The grip would be far stronger; I wouldn't want to risk twisting away, in case I damaged myself trying to get out of the hold. So, wedging block."

He brought his hands up, together, in front his chest, between Fox's arms, and pushed them off with his forearms. "From there, your attacker's body will be open, and you can respond in various different ways – knee to the groin, particularly effective on men, of course, palm strike to the chest and solar plexus… finger tip thrust, but that might be a little advanced for you at the moment."

Snake turned back to the 'class', from demonstrating the counter-attacks on Fox – from the way he was half-smirking, and the way the other man had stumbled back a little from the finger-tip thrust, Alex was willing to bet that it hadn't been as gentle as it could have been. He wondered, absently, what Fox had done to deserve it this time.

"Right, we'll pair you up, and then I want you all to try some variation on wedging block and counter attack, alright?" he said, calmly. "Fox, Rider and I will be here if you have any problems, so don't hesitate to ask." He didn't exactly sound friendly and inviting, but there were some scattered nods, nonetheless.

Alex did his best to look awkward at being essentially excluded from the group of his classmates, but was having difficulty feeling anything except apathetic. He carefully corrected Tom's counter attacks – they had a tendency to fly wide in the smaller boy's enthusiasm, but Alex didn't miss the rather annoyed glance his friend gave him when he pointed that out – and wandered through the pairs, trying to spot any issues.

"Rider, try and do something, rather than wandering round with your head in the clouds." Fox snapped at him, when they passed. Alex tried to look contrite, but shrugged. There wasn't really much he could do.

One of the girls, towards the back, couldn't seem to get the block right, and her partner, another girl Alex vaguely recognised as being new to Brooklands, managed to keep a hold on her shoulders every time.

"You need to twist." He said, quietly, when she failed yet again to dislodge her partner's hands.

She frowned at him. "What do you mean, 'twist'?"

"The block's got to come from your hips." He elaborated. "Look, you cross your hands, like this, down low," he demonstrated, a little uncomfortably, "And twist a little to the side before you do it; either side, it doesn't matter which. It helps to loosen the hold just a little, without putting you in danger of damaging yourself; and it gives your block more power. Look, try it on me."

The girl – Alex thought her name was Kylie, but he couldn't be sure – seemed unwilling to touch him, so, with a sigh, he picked her hands up and placed them calmly on his shoulders. It was a perfectly clinical, innocent move, but possibly-Kylie blushed all the same. "Right. Grip a little tighter." She flushed even more, but her hands tightened on his shoulders all the same. "Bear in mind that the height difference makes this easier for me as well, OK? But, look. You cross your hands, and twist your upper body to the side – can you feel your grip loosening? It takes a seriously skilled opponent to move with you as you do that, especially as you get better, and get faster at this. Right, so, once you've done that, I bring my hands up – and I've lost speed, because this is an example, not the real thing – but you'd bring your hands up, and twist them like that, knocking your opponent's hands off." He stepped back. "Make sense?"

She nodded, but said, shyly, "Could I practice with you? Just once, maybe? You make it seem much easier…"

Alex had to restrain his look of shock – not to mention his feelings of budding terror – but nodded patiently, giving her 'real' partner a quick look. "Do you have any problems, um…"

"Ellie." She said, a little shyly. "No, I'm good."

"Great." He gave her an awkward little smile and turned back to possibly-Kylie. "OK. Do you want me to demonstrate again, or do you want to try it yourself?"

"I'll try it, thanks." She said, looking up at him, half-shy, half-challenging.

Alex did his best to ignore the look. "Right. Great."

He put his hands on her shoulders, and let her get on with it. She managed to half-dislodge his grip, and he gave her a quick, encouraging smile. "That was good! Just, um…" he paused. "Look, can I…?" he gestured, rather awkwardly, at her hips, and she stifled a giggle, but nodded. He put his hands on her hips, and twisted a little. "See, that will give your block a little added power, OK? So, just try and get that movement into your block."

"Can I try one more time?" She asked, innocently.

"I think Ellie's going to be getting a bit, um…" Alex glanced across, but she just shook her head, cheeks also suspiciously pink.

"No, it's fine." She offered him a quick, shy smile, too much like possibly-Kylie's. Alex flinched, inwardly.

"OK, let's, um, try it again then." He said, mustering up a friendly smile, and putting his hands on her shoulders again.

This time, Kylie managed to lose Alex's grip on her shoulders, and Alex gave her another encouraging smile, and headed off. Behind him, he could just hear the two girls whispering and giggling behind him, and he could feel Fox's eyes on him. It was all he could do to keep himself from flushing bright red.

After that, strangely, there seemed to be a ridiculous number of girls needing help, and Alex was on the receiving end of a shocking number – even more than usual – of glowers from the boys in his class. When Fox told him to 'stop flirting', and 'go and ask Wolf whether he was still needed', Alex went with a sigh of relief. He understood a little too much of what had just happened with the girls in his class, and he didn't like it.

* * *

After the class was over, and Alex was half-heartedly helping to clear up the pads they'd been using to improve the aim of their punches, one of the bigger boys in his class, Sam Lewis, approached him, glancing around quickly to make sure that none of the SAS 'teachers' were anywhere near.

"You stay away from Katie, OK?"

Alex gave him a blank look. "Katie?"

"Yeah, my _girlfriend_, Katie, the girl you were feeling up over there!" he hissed at him.

"Oh, _Katie_." Alex shrugged. "I thought her name was Kylie."

Apparently, that was the wrong answer, as Sam took another threatening step towards him. "Just – stay away from her, OK?!"

Alex shrugged and sighed; he wasn't entirely sure which part of this conversation was meant to seem threatening, but it was easier just to let this whole thing go. He couldn't be bothered to fight it. "Sure, Sam. Whatever you say."

"I mean it, Rider!" he gave him a quick shove. "Leave her alone."

Alex let himself stumble a couple of paces backwards, but nodded, and that seemed to satisfy the other boy, who was looking a little uncomfortable at this point anyway. Alex hadn't been expecting any real violence from Lewis; from what he knew of him, which admittedly wasn't much, he wasn't exactly a violent guy. Typical chip-on-his-shoulder teenager, maybe, but not violent.

He watched, only half-seeing it, as Lewis made his way back to his little gang of friends, before they all headed back to their barracks in the measly half hour of free time they had to wash and shower up before supper, and bed. Alex himself never showered now; there was far too much risk that his injuries would be seen, and he didn't want to be asked questions he had no answer for. Generally, he waited until after whatever night-exercise Wolf had set him was over, and grabbed a quick shower then. If anyone was in the showers at that time, it was either enlisted men, or half-broken-in recruits, and most of them had taken the idea of 'don't ask, don't tell' firmly to heart.

"What was that about, then?"

Alex turned, quickly, to face the voice. Eagle was stood, leaning casually against the wall of the old training hall they had been using, giving Alex a bland look which was an almost sure sign that he wanted a proper answer.

Alex shrugged, carelessly. "Nothing. He just wanted to warn me off his girlfriend."

Eagle grinned at that. "Nice one, Cub…"

"Yeah, if I'd actually been doing anything other than teaching her how to do wedging block."

Eagle's grin widened. "Well, you know, might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. Go for it, Cub." He pretended to wipe away a tear, "And then our little Cub will be all grown up, and…"

Alex half hearted chucked a pad at the man. "You realise you're encouraging fourteen year olds to have sex, right?"

Eagle clapped a hand over his eyes. "Oh, good _god_, that was an image I didn't need, Cub! I'm going to have horrible nightmares now."

"You started it. And you think you haven't given _me_ a couple of nightmares?"

"And you claim to be a teenager; only seven year olds say things like that, Cub." That was Wolf, Alex knew without even having to turn round. "Pass me that pad, or I'll _really_ give you nightmares. Until you're collecting your pension, in fact." The threat was only casually delivered; if anything, it was more affectionate than threatening – or at least as near as Wolf got to affectionate.

As Alex passed it to him, he said, casually, "Well, so long as you don't make me watch while you and Eagle…"

Eagle had him in a headlock before he could finish that sentence.

* * *

That night, after evening meal, Alex fetched the mop and broom in front of his classmates, just to stem off any potential rumours that his punishment duty hours were actually chances for him to catch up with his 'father', half-heartedly sweeping the floor, and bearing the half-muffled jeers of his class in silence. The one time he did look up properly, he met Wasp's eyes, and the man gave him an expressionless nod. It wasn't much, but it was more positive human contact than he was likely to get until the next morning, with K-Unit.

He didn't want to think about how his life had become so barren of friends and relations that his most positive relationships were with four men who hardly knew him, and, to all intents and purpose, barely tolerated him.

Once his classmates had disappeared, he returned the mop and brush to the kitchen staff, and headed over to the rudimentary lecture theatre at a brisk jog. The last thing he wanted to do was risk being late, and face the wrath of the Sergeant. He knew from last time that that could only result in pain and punishment duty.

As it turned out, he was a little early, and he settled down by the door, pulling Spanish book out of his voluminous trouser pockets, and settling down to read it, producing a pen from his jacket pocket, and occasionally marking things into the margin. Missing as much school as he did, Alex had learnt that it was best to snatch moments to catch up whenever he could.

He paid only peripheral attention to the new recruits who were gathering around him, waiting for the lecture; his only deference to their presence was to stand up, rather than sit down – he didn't want to be stood on by some careless new recruit – but he didn't take his eyes of the book he was reading until someone spoke to him.

"You're one of those kids, right?"

Alex gave him a blank look – one that said, quite clearly, that the man was an idiot for even asking. It wasn't like it wasn't obvious how old Alex was.

"Yes." He said, flatly, and went back to his book.

The man flushed a little, and took the book out of his hands, snapping it shut, and holding it away from Alex. "Shouldn't you be down at the nursery with the rest of your little friends?" he sneered, obviously far more aware of the audience they'd attracted than Alex. He reminded the teen a little of Wolf – just a pettier, less reasonable Wolf.

"Obviously not. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't supposed to be." He said, calmly, determined not to rise to this small-time bully's bate.

"Oh, right, and we're expected to believe that a _child_ is actually supposed to be at a lecture for advanced weapons technique, are we?" a friend of whoever this recruit was asked, for him.

Alex shrugged. "Believe what you like. Book, please."

The man's expression turned ugly, and he held the book deliberately out of reach. "Make me."

Alex frowned at him. "Oh, for God's sake, grow up."

The man laughed at that, but the men around him stayed silent, except for a couple of the other less astute recruits. "Like I said, _kid_, make me." He punctuated his words with a couple of shoves, and Alex was getting seriously fed up of being pushed around by people today.

He debated it for maybe a second and a half, before lashing out at the man, catching him a glancing blow in his (_stupidly_, Alex though, grimly) exposed midriff, before following it up with a palm-heel strike to the nose, which broke it with a satisfying crack.

He stepped back, plucking his book out of the now-swearing man's hands, as the Sergeant's voice broke over them.

"Cub, stop beating up the recruits. And you," he dragged the man up, "Stand at attention when I'm talking to you, do you hear me?" The man nodded, dragging his hand away from his bleeding nose. "What the hell were you thinking, picking a fight with an Agent? One with a higher rank than you will _ever_ have?"

The man gave Alex an incredulous glance.

"Look at me when I am talking to you!" The Sergeant barked. "You will apologise, and then you will be outside my room tomorrow at 0500 hours, do you hear me?!"

"Sir, yes Sir!"

"I'll know if you're not there." He turned to the rest of them. "Get inside, the lot of you."

Alex was the last to go in, barring the Sergeant; when he glanced up at the man, his expression was impassive.

"Thank you." he said, politely.

"I didn't do it for you, Cub."

* * *

The lecture had been interesting, if somewhat draining, and it was with no small degree of pity that Alex watched the new recruits being forced to go off on a run.

"Cub!" Alex turned to meet the Sergeant behind him. "If you have any trouble from the new recruits again, I want you to tell me, do you understand?"

"Sir." Alex returned, a little dryly. He paused. "It was for them, wasn't it?"

"What?" The Sergeant looked a little confused, before masking the expression with irritation. "Cub, I don't have time to crack riddles with you. Go and pester Wolf if you want to play games."

Alex couldn't help the way his lips quirked at that. "My being there. At that lecture. It was to test the new recruits, wasn't it?"

The Sergeant shrugged, but gave Alex an assessing little glance. "Partially. I wanted you to go to that lecture, mostly. But – we don't have time for people who are going to spring on the nearest scapegoat, Cub." With that, he turned away, and Alex had to call after him to get an answer to his most pressing question.

"Do I really have a rank?"

"Of course you do, Cub, didn't you know that already?" The man half-answered his question without turning round, or slowing his pace, and by the time Alex had thought up a decent way to answer that without looking needy or arrogant, he was long out of ear-shot.

* * *

Alex grabbed a quick shower, then headed up to their barracks, collapsing into his bed as quietly as he could. He was exhausted; it was nearing ten o'clock, and he'd been working all day since a quarter to six in the morning.

Silently, just before he fell asleep, he vowed that if any of the boys in his class woke him early, they were going to be singing soprano for a very, very long time.

He should have known that vows like that are always dangerous.

About three hours later the door to their barracks banged open, the lights stuttered on, and Eagle's voice called, loudly,

"C'mon, maggots, look alive! You're all way past the beauty sleep thing, trust me!" (2)

Alex, who had half fallen, half rolled out of bed the moment the door opened, resisted the urge to groan, loudly, like the rest of the boys were. "What're we doing?" he slurred, inwardly cursing Eagle to the ends of the earth and back for looking so damn _awake_.

"Swimming. Down in the river, you saw it today, by the assault course." He grinned. "There'll be people along the edge of the course, and a light on the jetty where we want you all to start, and another when you can stop." His grin widened imperceptibly. "Even you can do it, Rider."

Wolf's voice interrupted his team-mate from the darkness. "Anyone who isn't up in five minutes is going to be running laps until dawn, is that clear?"

Eagle retreated, letting the threat hang on the air, allowing the door to swing shut behind him.

"Just because he likes finding boys in their beds." Alex grumbled, already half undressed. There was no point taking clothes down to the course, when he'd just have to strip them off when he got there. He'd be swimming it in his boxers, and nothing else – any other clothing would just slow him down.

He had his T-shirt half-off before his sleep-dulled brain realised there was no way he could take his shirt off in front of all the boys in his class, for the same reason he couldn't shower in front of them.

Sighing, he let the T-shirt drop back down, and almost missed the question the boy in the bed next to him, Nick, asked.

"What do you mean, he likes finding boys in their beds?"

"Eagle?" Nick nodded, and Alex shrugged. "Can't you tell he's gay?" he met the other boy's eyes squarely, expression calm, inwardly gloating at the chance for just a little revenge. "The way he looks at all of us… well, it's not straight." He shrugged, and let them mull that one over, heading for the door, while the rest of the boys were still getting out of bed.

"Cub. You've got half an hour to do this. Every minute over, you get ten press ups, got me?" Wolf's voice came out of the darkness, barely half the volume of a whisper, and Alex nodded, silently. For a moment, he debated telling them about the all-too-obvious bullet wound on his chest, but then shrugged the idea off. If MI6 hadn't told them, it probably meant they either didn't need to know or they weren't supposed to know. Either way, Alex wasn't going to be the first to tell them; and he could get this swim over and done with before it became an issue.

He ran down to the jetty, to avoid getting caught in the stampede of the rest of his class, stripping off his T-shirt, and hiding it in one of the bushes. It wasn't particularly special, and he could come back and get it tomorrow morning, in any case.

Then he dived into the river.

The water was freezing, and left him gasping for a few moments, before he forced himself to start swimming. For the first five or ten minutes, his muscles protested, stiff from sleep, and not used to the cold. Then he warmed up – or at least got too numb to feel much of the cold – and the course of the river was easy to follow; he knew the way, having done it so many times before in his earlier training. He could practically follow it with his eyes shut.

It was, in a strange, slightly twisted way, peaceful as well. The rest of his class were way behind him, so he wasn't disturbed by the half-asleep, half-drowning other boys, or having to help anyone.

The entire swim took him maybe twenty minutes, half an hour maximum, though, as he pointed out to himself, he was swimming with the current, and it was a fairly short course – certainly shorter than the ones he'd done before. He reached the jetty they'd been heading for way, way ahead of anyone else, and hauled himself onto it, caught his breath, and stripped the excess water off his arms and legs.

A torch beam played over his face, and a voice – was it Eagle, or Fox? – said, sounding rather smug,

"Cub. Enjoy your swim?"

Alex shrugged, as the torch beam fell. "It was OK…" he began, but the man, whoever it was, wasn't listening.

"Christ, kid, what the hell happened to you?"

He looked down. The torch was focussed on his chest, where he had numerous old scratches, some quite nasty, from things like falling onto barbed wire, or having to escape through too-small pipes with metal grilles over them. And, in pride of place, practically over his heart, was a shiny white bullet scar, and the scored white lines from surgery.

"Nothing much." He shrugged.

"Nothing much?!" it was definitely Eagle, and he sounded – angry? Upset? Worried? "Jesus, Cub, how old is that thing, anyway? You sure as hell didn't have it last time!"

Alex paused, far from sure whether he should be telling Eagle anything about what had happened. "No, I didn't. I got it – on one of my assignments." He skirted. Surely that was vague enough.

Now that his eyes had adjusted to the bright light of the torch, he could make out his team-mates outline in the darkness, and he definitely heard the sound of a zip being undone.

"Eagle, what the…?" he began, squinting through the darkness. The man seemed to be stripping his jacket off, movements short and jerky, and Alex watched – or squinted – in something like shock as Eagle pulled his T-shirt off and threw it at Alex.

"Wear that." He said, shortly, as Alex's arm snapped out to catch it. "You can't afford to catch infection on top of that – thing." He paused. "Cub, we need to talk about this."

* * *

(1) – A Tamora Pierce, Lord Wyldon reference there. Those who read it will know what I'm on about, and for those who don't… yeah, it's just me being weird. That's not a problem, right? (glare)

(2) – and THAT is a Mulan reference. Because, I love Mushu. And I don't care that I'm 18 – just!! (does the happy 'maturity' dance). Disney is timeless, people.

Right. there we have it! All over for today, folks. I hope you enjoyed.

-ami xx


	6. Chapter 6

Well, here you have it - the apparently desperately long-awaited Chapter 6 of Hell Is Other People. Having had over 150 reviews for one chapter - _wow_ - I figured I should probably get this up.

That said, I make no apologies for the chapter taking so long to write and get up, because I have a busy real life, involving A-Levels and family and a life outside of writing fanfiction; I write a lot, but I can't always be typing stories, and if you want to read something that has any quality at all, I'm afraid you are just going to have to wait. So reviews which say things like 'write more or I'll kill you' - yes, there've been a couple like that - are worse than unconstructive, they're downright disheartening.

But most of you have been very kind and understanding, so thank you to all of you! I hope this next chapter lives up to your expectations; do please drop me a line and tell me what you thought! 228 people have this story on their alert, so it would be amazing/gobsmacking/totally humbling if everyone could leave a review, however short.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed Chapter 5, but special thanks to everyone who left concrit; I always appreciate it, and I hope that I've managed either to take account of or correct the issue. :D

Special thanks go, as always, to **Von**, who sits patiently through all of my whinges over my various stories with good advice, good humour and good sense. :P

And I'm going to post this, and dash off to see "Wicked" for the third time. Can anyone say 'obsessive'?

DISCLAIMER: It's all mine, mine, I say, mine!!

...except, it's maybe not. Well... really not. Darn.

**

* * *

**

**Previous:**

_Now that his eyes had adjusted to the bright light of the torch, he could make out his team-mates outline in the darkness, and he definitely heard the sound of a zip being undone._

_"Eagle, what the…?" he began, squinting through the darkness. The man seemed to be stripping his jacket off, movements short and jerky, and Alex watched – or squinted – in something like shock as Eagle pulled his T-shirt off and threw it at Alex._

_"Wear that." He said, shortly, as Alex's arm snapped out to catch it. "You can't afford to catch infection on top of that – thing." He paused. "Cub, we need to talk about this."

* * *

_

Alex frowned a little. "Talk about what?"

Eagle moved the torch slightly so it wasn't shining right in Alex's face. "What do you think we have to talk about?" he asked, a little harshly.

Alex's only response was to blink slowly at him.

"Come on." Eagle said, roughly, turning to head off the little jetty. "We've got a good half hour before any of the rest of your lot appear."

Frown of confusion still firmly in place, Alex followed him off the jetty, heading over to the jeep where Wolf and the rest of K-Unit were sat with the inside lights on. Wolf was reading something – probably some fascinating text on the new types of camouflage, Alex thought, wryly – and Fox was half way through telling Snake to 'go fish', cards in hand, a shark-like grin on his face.

Eagle rapped sharply on the window of the jeep, but Wolf was already opening the door as he lifted his hand.

"What is it?" he glanced at Cub. "Nice to see you got here before the rest of them." He said, rather gruffly, with a nod. Alex accepted the comment with a twitch of his lips which could have been a smile; it might not have been praise exactly, but Alex had learnt to cut his clothes to fit his cloth when it came to Wolf. It was probably about as near to praise as he was likely to get from the quiet, dour man.

Eagle paid no attention to the side-comment. "I think we've been endangering Cub's health." He said, bluntly, and Wolf looked back at his team-mate with a dark frown.

"What the hell does that mean?" he looked back at Alex, paying more attention this time to his appearance; his face pale in the thin light, hair dark with water, and still dripping a little onto the T-shirt he wore. "And why's he wearing your T-shirt?"

Eagle's face darkened. "Cub, take the T-shirt off."

"If you want me to put out for you, you'd better be nicer about it." Alex returned, voice sharp.

Eagle turned anger-dark eyes on him. "We haven't got time for this!" he snapped. Alex didn't reply – there was no point. He'd seen how intimidating Eagle could be with they were training here the first time, and it wasn't an experience he wanted to repeat. The less he angered this lot, the better.

Stripping off the slightly-damp T-shirt, he held it out to Eagle, who shook his head. "Keep it." He said, gruffly.

"Why?" Alex asked, face set. "After all, it's not like I'm going to be wearing it."

Wolf wasn't listening to any of this – Fox and Snake had stopped their card game and were watching the conversation, both wearing near-identical wary expressions.

"What happened?" The man asked, finally, very, very quietly, and Alex knew better than to pretend not to know what he was talking about.

"I got shot." He said, equally quietly.

"Really? I wouldn't have noticed." Wolf told him, voice rich with equal measures of frustration and sarcasm.

"Well, that's the point really, isn't it?" Alex pointed out. "If it hadn't been for this bloody swim of yours, you _wouldn't_ have noticed. It doesn't affect me any more."

Snake had got out of the car on hearing their quiet exchange, to have a better look at Alex's scar. "You're telling me that this doesn't hurt you at all?" he asked, face frankly incredulous. "How long ago did that happen? It looks a little… sore."

Alex shifted a little. "I don't know how much I can tell you…" he said, soft and awkward.

Wolf opened his mouth to say something, probably some cutting response, but Snake beat him to it. "If it endangers your health," he said, firmly, "You can tell me anything."

"But I can't, can I?" Alex said, looking away, frustrated. "I mean, yeah, you know what I am, but I haven't got permission to just tell you everything, have I?!"

Wolf was still frowning, darkly. "You're a fourteen year old! It's our _job_ to look after you, for Christ's sake!"

"Half the time, it seems to be _my_ job to look after all of _you_, and I don't think I'm allowed to tell you anything about it." Alex replied, sharply, in a voice which brooked no further questions.

Eagle, who had been relatively content to stay in the background and watch the scene unfold, spoke up abruptly, "It was Scorpia, wasn't it?" Alex paused, obviously torn. "Oh, for God's sake, you can answer a simple question like that! It's not exactly a matter of British security, we already know you've worked against them!"

Slowly and reluctantly, Alex nodded.

The tall man muttered something under his breath Alex was pretty sure he wouldn't repeat in front of his grandparents, and sighed. "And how long ago was it?"

"That comes under one of the questions you _can_ answer." Snake added, quietly. "So long as we don't ask you anything that compromises British security, you can answer it." He gave Alex a hard look. "Hasn't anyone explained the Official Secrets Act to you?"

Alex ignored that slightly awkward question in favour of Eagle's. At least he was certain he knew the answer to that one. "It was about two months ago." He said, quietly. "Give or take a couple of days."

Snake relaxed minutely at that. "Two months? So it's on the mend, then."

Alex nodded, rather unsurely. "Yeah, I think so?"

"You've brought your medication with you, right? Do you know what you're on?"

Alex thought briefly of the pain medication he'd never taken, only brought because Jack had insisted, and which now sat at the bottom of the rucksack he'd brought here – then nodded. "Yeah. And, um – I don't know what it is. Codeine, maybe? Vicodin?"

Snake nodded. "Sounds about right."

"How did your therapist say you were doing?" Wolf asked, suddenly. "Did he clear you to come here?"

Alex looked at him, slightly thrown off-balance by all the questions he was being asked, unused to all the attention and unsure of many of the answers he was supposed to be giving. "Therapist?"

"_Physical_ therapist." Wolf clarified, a definite hint of frustration in his voice. "Christ, kid, how thick _are_ you?"

"Wolf," Fox murmured, from the back of the jeep, "Play nice."

Wolf sighed. "Sorry." He apologised, unwillingly. "So? Therapist?"

"Um…" Alex paused. "Yeah, he seemed pleased with me." There was surely no point mentioning that he hadn't seen the guy for over a month and a half. After all, the one thing MI6 would never do would be to jeopardise his health – he wouldn't be able to work for them if he wasn't fully fit.

"That's good." Snake nodded. "Really, though, Cub, you should have told us about this, OK? We could have done you some serious damage."

Alex nodded obediently.

"Right." Wolf took charge again, dispatching Eagle back to the little jetty with a quick nod. "Cub, will you find your way back to barracks in the dark, or do you need one of us to go with you?" A year or so ago, that question would have been accompanied by a heavy dose of sarcasm; now, there was no sense that Wolf was trying to be patronising.

"I'll manage." Alex said, trying to hand the T-shirt he was still holding over to one of the men.

"Put it on, you'll freeze otherwise." Wolf told him, a little gruffly.

"What, and the rest of my class won't?"

"We've got towels for them somewhere." Teeth glinted white in the faint light from the car. "Somewhere. Here," he produced a small torch from the door of the car. "You'll need this to get back."

Alex just nodded, flicked the torch on, and headed back off into the darkness.

* * *

When the other boys got back, Alex's hair had been roughly and hastily dried, and he made up some convincing lie about having been told to go and clean out one of the old barracks, being careful to complain about the dust and how 'spooky' it had been. The other boys looked highly disgruntled, but none of them – except Tom, who gave him a strange, almost hostile look – looked like they actively disbelieved him.

* * *

Next morning, Alex slid out of bed at five forty-five, pulling on his clothes, and walking very quietly to the door, boots in one hand, stopping just outside to pull his boots on. 

He looked up sharply when the door opened again, mind already throwing up an excuse to give, but it was Tom who stood in the doorway, still looking slightly sleepy, hair mussed, still in his pyjamas.

"Where're you going?" he asked, very quietly, shivering a little in the bitter March early morning.

"I've got – some extra practice." Alex hedged, warily.

Tom frowned slightly. "Doing what?"

"They…um, they want me to improve my aim." A nice, safe answer which he could hopefully explain away if anyone else happened to be listening.

Tom nodded. "OK." He looked away, eyes taking in the too-early morning, watching as some of the trainees started off on a run, chivvied and bullied along by the drill sergeant, presumably – Alex calculated, from the direction they were running, and from his own thankfully brief experiences as a 'trainee' – heading for the assault course.

"So, how did you find the swim, yesterday?"

His smaller friend gave him a quick look, before looking away again, back over the camp. "Oh, you know… fine. I thought it would be pretty easy, I'm good at this kind of stuff." He paused, before adding, off-handedly, "Not as good as you, though, apparently."

Alex shook his head. "I knew the course, and I left way before anything else." He pointed out, keen not to let anything fester between him and one of his few remaining friends.

"Yeah, whatever." Tom turned back to the barracks. "Have fun shooting, Alex."

The door shut before Alex could reply.

* * *

Eagle was there at the shooting range again, and he gave Alex a quick nod by way of greeting, before the Range Sergeant was pulling him to one side, and presenting him with a rifle. 

"Shoot standing up, this time, Cub. Your team mate," This said with a gesture in Eagle's direction, and Alex raised an eyebrow; they were still considered team-mates? "Has told me all about your – accident, so maybe it's best not to let you shoot from the prone position." He paused, before adding, "But if you don't hit an accurate shot every time, you're going to be running the perimeter for the rest of your goddamn _life_, are we clear, Cub?"

Alex nodded, took the gun, and headed over to the position left empty for him. As he got ready to shoot, the gun's safety catch still firmly on, he jerked suddenly, surprised to find the Sergeant right next to him, correcting his stance.

"Christ, boy, calm down." The sergeant told him, roughly. "Your stance is wrong, and it'll throw your aim off; put the gun properly to your shoulder," he adjusted the position of the rifle so it fit better into Alex's position, "That should help with the kick-back once you've fired it. Then, you need to adjust your feet – they're weak, you'll end up off-balance…"

The Sergeant seemed to be spending an inordinate amount of time with Alex that morning, adjusting his stances, checking his shots, making sure he was using the aim properly – and while it was surprisingly tiring, Alex came away from the session feeling, for the first time, like it had actually been useful, rather than just an exercise in discipline, forcing him to get up an hour early for a fundamentally useless exercise.

Eagle caught up with him again as he left. "Nice shooting." He complimented him, rather awkwardly.

Alex glanced up at him. "Thanks." He nodded.

"So, um… how are you, er – feeling?"

"Not so bad." Alex stifled a grin at the question. From the way Eagle's voice had caught unwillingly over it, it had taken a lot to ask.

"Good." He changed the subject, quickly. "So, aren't the rest of your class noticing that you keep disappearing? We don't want to blow your cover…"

Alex shrugged. "If they haven't noticed it so far, they're probably not going to."

Eagle shrugged. "Fair enough."

A slightly uncomfortable silence ensued, and Alex finally broke it, with a rather desperate, "So, do you know what we're doing today?"

"The assault course again, for certain." Eagle nodded, seizing on the topic as quickly as Alex had. Somehow the discovery of his bullet scar had changed the albeit-stilted relationship he had had with the older man, and it was making things difficult now. "But apart from that, I'm not sure. Evasive tactics, at some point today, I think… and some more combat lessons. But whether all of that's today, I don't know. It might be spread out. This is only your third day, after all… there's plenty of time."

Alex nodded, slowly. "Yeah. That doesn't sound too difficult…"

"For you, maybe." Eagle nodded, with a wry, fleeting smile. "For the rest of your class, it may not be so easy…"

Alex shrugged. "I think you're too harsh on them. They're just kids, you know? It's not like we're going to be up to SAS standard."

"Fair point." Eagle cocked his head. "But how did _you_ get so good?"

Alex remembered, briefly and vividly, the 'adventure' holidays his uncle had taken him on, the trips climbing and diving, the 'trekking' holidays they'd taken, the casual lessons the man had given him on things like survival rations, keeping warm in freezing temperatures, pick-pocketing… his insistence on Alex's karate and language lessons – then he shrugged. "Just lucky, I guess."

Eagle let it go at that.

* * *

They separated again just before Alex's barracks, and Alex headed up, already dreading the reaction he was going to get when he walked back in again. 

Thankfully, only a couple of people were up – Tom, and Ben Ashley, among others – but the majority were still asleep. Ben offered him a quick, rather nervous smile as he entered, and Tom nodded at him, but he was spared any other, less positive reactions. So it was with a degree of trepidation that he resolutely pulled the make-shift curtain back from the window, and began the all-too-long task of dragging everyone out of bed. The other boys who were up and dressed copied him, but it was Alex who garnered most of the insults for his pain.

"You've just got to be a good little boy, haven't you, Rider?" Will Hartford sneered. "I guess if you're such a weakling you can't even swim for more than a couple of metres, you've got to make sure you follow everything else to the letter, right?"

Alex glared at him. "I can still kick your ass any time."

"Oh, with your amazing black belt skills, right?" he laughed, unkindly. "Yeah, right. I bet you had to bribe your teacher to get that."

Alex didn't bother replying, letting the other boy believe it was true from the implications of his silence. He had been wondering how his class was going to deal with that little conundrum – that he was supposed to be too weak to deal with all of the tasks they had, but that he was still a black belt, still good enough to be helping to teach the class. It just showed, if someone wanted to believe something, they would believe it no matter what the evidence to the contrary.

They headed down to breakfast with minutes to spare, and, for once, Wolf didn't single Alex out for reproof – a welcome and sensible change. Apparently, the man had finally realised that he would simply be endangering Alex's cover if he continuously picked on him.

* * *

After breakfast, they assembled as normal outside the mess hall, until K-Unit turned up. For once, their 'teachers' weren't there already, and they had to wait a good five or ten minutes before they turned up. By the time Wolf and the rest of them arrived, the chatter had risen to such a pitch that Wolf actually had to shout a couple of times before everyone shut up. 

"If anything like that happens again," he said, giving them all a threatening look, "I am going to make you all go through a whole day with duct tape over your mouths, has everyone got that?" Everyone nodded, immediately; they might not be wholly convinced by the threat, but that didn't mean they wanted to push Wolf and find out how serious he was. "Remember, if you can't hear an attack coming, you can't defend against it."

Ben looked at Alex, and mouthed "_how paranoid are these guys_?" at him, and Alex nodded back, with a grin. He was about to reply, when Wolf's voice, raised and annoyed, interrupted the would-be reply.

"Something funny, Rider?"

"No, sir." He told him, quickly, looking down, unwilling to push Wolf today.

"Good. If you can't be useful, you can at least make sure that you're not a distraction." A rather strange look flickered over Wolf's face, but it was gone in a second, and if Alex hadn't been so carefully trained in noticing things like that, he might have thought that he had imagined it.

Fox took over from there. "After the disaster you made of the assault course yesterday, we've decided to split you up to deal with it this time. Half of you are going to go with Snake and me, and do first aid, and the other lot will be completing the assault course. You'll swap when they've all been over it, has everyone got that?"

A few scattered nods were all the reply he got – apparently, Fox wasn't as intimidating as Wolf.

"We're going to divide you roughly down the middle," Eagle informed them, and Alex hid a quick smile, watching as people moved hastily so they were near their friends, "So, you lot," he gestured at Alex's half of the group, "Are going to be doing first aid to begin with. We'll see you in about – oh, about three hours, probably." With one quick, fatalistic look at Fox, Eagle turned towards the assault course. "Come along, brats." He threw over one shoulder, before both he and Wolf headed off, apparently deep in conversation.

Snake turned to face them, heaved a sigh, and shrugged. "Come on, then."

He took them to the same large, open shed he had taught them in the day before, and where they had been taught the basics of martial arts, and while Fox fetched the 'model' first aid box, he turned to face them, sitting them down and lecturing them.

"Yesterday, we dealt with field wounds; who remembers what to do if someone gets wounded?"

One boy – Joe Radcliffe – raised his hand, rather tentatively.

"Yes?"

"Make a wad out of clothing to catch the blood, and tie it on tightly with something, so it's like a kind of – tourniquet?"

Snake nodded, semi-approvingly. "Good. Nice to know that one of you was paying attention. Right, and what do you do if someone sustains a wound on a vital artery?"

"Pray for them." Becky whispered, sarcastically.

"I heard that." He said, giving her a glare, and Alex noted that even a mild glare from Snake could make a sizeable chunk of his class cringe just a little. "And in some cases it's true. But people have survived after a wound in an artery," if his eyes flickered to Alex here, no one noticed it. "None of you will be able to keep them alive, though, so the best you can do for them is get them to medical attention as quickly as possible, and pray."

A couple of them swallowed a little nervously, but it wasn't until Katie put her hand up that they got an answer to the question they'd all been thinking. "Do you think we're going to get shot, then?"

Snake gave her a sober look as Fox returned with a first aid kit. "I don't know." He paused. "Look, you may think we're bastards, and we really don't care, but believe me when I tell you that I hope you aren't going to be shot. But at the moment, it's entirely possible you're going to be in a situation where you're going to be shot _at_. And we're trying to make sure you know what to do if you end up in a situation like that, so a little cooperation would be nice, if you don't mind."

The lesson went along smoothly after that, Snake and Fox teaching them some of the more basic, but, according to them, less vital first aid points. Alex was amazed by how many people didn't know how to do basic mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, but there were certainly enough giggles when Snake was eventually forced to demonstrate on the only life-sized model available – Fox.

Although neither man seemed in any way embarrassed by it, it didn't seem to have helped much, so Fox headed off to fetch the rubber 'doll' like the one Alex had learnt CPR on, while Snake taught a couple more basics like setting broken bones and splinting them so the victim could be moved safely, or, if the broken bone was in the leg, could move on their own, among others.

The other group turned up, muddy and miserable, just as they were half way through learning to do CPR, and Fox promptly ended the lesson, dispatching them to the assault course, with nothing more than a grin and a too-cheerful 'good luck!'

* * *

At the assault course, Wolf and Eagle sent them off on a run the moment they arrived as a warm up, and took them through a quick but thorough stretch, all too aware that a muscle could easily be pulled or damaged in the cold weather. It was only when they were certain that all of them were as warmed up as they could be that the two men split them again into two groups of five and one group of six, and setting the first group off. 

Alex's group was to go second this time, and Charlotte – one of the more sensible girls in his class, but equally one of the shyer ones – said, quietly, "You were good at it yesterday, weren't you, Alex? I mean, you seemed to do well…?"

He winced a little, reluctant to lie to her and disappoint her when she seemed nice – but, on balance, his cover was more important at the moment. "Nah, I'm sorry." He said, as off-handedly as he could manage. "We didn't have a clue what we were doing, any of us."

When their turn came round, Alex forced himself to hang back a little more than he had before, when impatience, and the last lingerings of a desire to prove himself had smothered the common sense which had been warning against it. He fumbled at the wall; he deliberately slipped catching the rope, falling into the muddy pit underneath. He didn't need to pretend when they got to the monkey bars – the metal bars had dried after the rain which must have set in after they finished their swim the night before, but he hadn't been able to wipe the mud off his hands properly, since his clothes were still muddy, and the grass just made them worse. The bars simply slipped between his fingers.

They finally got over it, to find Eagle waiting for them, one eyebrow raised. "Thirty five minutes." He informed them. "Not bad – but not good, either. You, Rider," he gave Alex a pointed look, "Were particularly useless. Stay behind."

Alex, forcing himself to look out of breath, just nodded.

Once everyone was across – Alex had had to hide a rather vindictive smirk when Will Hartford fell into the mud pit just as he had – Wolf gathered them as a group to give them feedback.

"Marginally better than yesterday – _marginally_. You're all still missing the point about this, though; it's supposed to be a _team building_ exercise. Go over as a team. If you can't work together, you might as well just go home now, do you understand?" He turned to the first group. "You lot were particularly good at this, but that was in comparison to the rest of them. There's a _lot_ of work to be done on this." After looking at each of them, as if trying to work out whether they really got it, he shrugged. "You're dismissed."

"Rider, stay behind." Eagle reminded him, and he obeyed with a black look on his face, which disappeared when the rest of his class were out of sight.

Wolf looked at him. "Well? What are you waiting for? Over again, Cub."

With a sigh, Alex began the kilometre long jog back to the start line.

* * *

He joined the rest of his class just over twenty minutes later, having completed the course in just over seventeen minutes, and having been told to take the walk back to the main camp at a run. 

"What did they make you do?" Tom asked, as Alex appeared in the group next to him in the same large, bare shed, breathing hard and trying to hide it.

He shrugged. "Nothing much. I just redid it."

"You must be bloody fast." Tom said, and there was a hint of envy in his voice.

Alex shifted, uncomfortably. "Well… I've had practice, haven't I? I've done it before."

"You two, stop whispering." Fox told them, sternly, over Wolf's breakdown of their performances on the assault course.

"…so useless at working as a team, as from tomorrow, we're going to split you up into groups of five or six, so you get used to working together. You'll have a different leader every day, so you all get a chance to lead." He paused. "All of you need to be able to work as a team, so we'll split you up into these groups, and you'll stay in them for the rest of your time here; if you've got four or five people you can rely on implicitly, then you've at least got someone you can look to if you need to fight."

Eagle took over. "For the moment, we're going to be going through some tactics with you – and you'll have a practical test on them tomorrow, working them through in battle situations…"

* * *

The tactics lesson was long, and complicated – though Alex was surprised to find that under the slightly quirky exterior, Eagle was a brilliant tactician – and involved various members of their class coming up and working through various problems, using strategies they had just gone through, but which did, somehow, manage to root at least some of the strategies in their minds. It went on for a surprising length of time, and even Alex found himself drifting during it; it was nearly twelve thirty by the time they finished. 

They were hurried off to lunch, after which they were given an hour of free time, and Alex made a point of spending it with some of the boys in his year; they might have pretty much ignored him for the entire hour, but it was better to be known as a bit of a loner in a group than to be the weirdo who went off on his own the whole time. Every group had a loner, and he could fit in better like that – there was no point making himself a bigger target than he apparently already was.

All the same, it was a bizarre relief to be going back to classes, where things were simple and easy to understand, and where he didn't have to worry quite so hard about fitting in.

They had been told to meet back at the shed where, apparently, they were to have all lessons which didn't involve the practical application of the skills they were supposed to have learnt.

"We're going through combat techniques again," Wolf informed them, tersely, "So you'll split back into your groups again. We'll be going over what you learnt yesterday, and hopefully going through some new techniques – if you've managed to remember anything." He paused, apparently searching the crowd, frowning as his eyes landed on Alex. "Rider. Apparently you're too sickly for this, even if you are only helping out with the teaching…" There were a couple of only-half-muffled sniggers at that, and Alex frowned, petulantly.

"I'll be fine. I'm a black belt!"

"Not a very good one." Wolf returned, cuttingly. "I think we can probably just about manage without." Alex frowned again, and opened his mouth to say something, but Wolf glared, and he quickly attempted to look cowed. He had a sneaking suspicion he maybe wasn't doing too great a job. "Report to Barrack 11; the Sergeant has some nice gentle work for you. I'll send someone when we're doing something delicate enough for you."

Alex half-pouted, but slipped out of the room, still trying to force a blush onto his face, listening to his CO as Wolf continued,

"Right, the rest of you – by the end of today, we're going to pair you up, one strong fighter with one weak, and match you against another pair, so you'd better learn fast…"

* * *

Alex reached Barracks 11 just a few minutes later, knocking, and being called in impatiently. 

"Cub." The Sergeant was there, along with the rest of D-Unit, who were all looking impressively ill-at-ease. Alex took a quick glance round the room, noticing that Barracks 11 seemed to be little more than an abandoned warehouse of some kind; possibly it had once been used for storage. Some old equipment, for God only knew what, was stacked in one corner, along with something that looked like it might once have been scaffolding; but apart from that it was empty. "This is your version of combat training." The Sergeant went on, "There's no point you learning – even teaching – how to block punches with the rest of the brats."

Alex met his eyes, calmly. "So, what am I doing?"

"You're going to be fighting D-Unit…"

Alex frowned a little on hearing that. "On my own?"

"Your job," He tensed a little on hearing it described that way, "Means you might be outnumbered. You've got to learn how to deal with that."

Alex nodded; personally, he thought the experience he already had of being outnumbered and beaten was good enough, but then, the SAS hadn't exactly shown their burning desire to acquaint themselves with the details of his job. There was no point arguing.

"They're not going to be holding back," The Sergeant continued, calmly, and Alex swallowed, already feeling the adrenaline surge. He'd have been lying if he said that the idea of this didn't worry him. "And I'll be back in half an hour to make sure they haven't killed you."

Alex nodded, already moving so his back was against the wall; the last thing he wanted to do was end up surrounded by SAS who had been ordered to throw everything they had at him. Less than half of his mind was focussing on what the Sergeant was saying, thought he did spare a moment to wonder whether Wolf had known that this was what he was sending him to. Mostly, though, he was concentrating on coming up with a good defence best tactic.

The Sergeant gave him an almost approving glance. "Right. Good luck, Cub."

When the Sergeant had gone, Wasp said, uncomfortably, "Look, Cub – we're sorry about this…"

"Don't worry." Alex said, tersely. "It's not like I've never had the shit kicked out of me before – I'll live."

They exchanged rather wary glances at that, but none of them commented. Alex waited a couple of seconds for one of them to take the initiative, and start it off, but none of them did; finally Alex sighed, putting his hands up into a guard in a movement which seemed to startle them.

"Right." Viper said, awkwardly, and stepped forwards, lashing out with a fast punch which Alex just as quickly blocked, stepping into the reach of Viper's arms, and sweeping his legs from under him, and, as the man fell, lashing out, and catching him on the temple, hard enough to knock him out, at least temporarily.

Sensing an attack behind him, he whirled to face Wasp, who had aimed an attack at his unprotected kidneys. Grasping his wrist in a hooking block, Alex pulled him forwards, which caught the man off-guard, though Alex wasn't strong enough to pull someone so much bigger fully off-balance. Hurriedly, he got his back to the wall, and waited for the next attack.

He didn't have to wait long.

Falcon aimed a knife-hand strike at his neck, which Alex ducked, jabbing up under the man's guard, noting absently that it wasn't as strong as it could have been as he pulled back. Pulling back, however, brought him straight into the forceful punch Wasp aimed at his ribs. From the hiss Wasp made, he hadn't been fully expecting to connect, but since Alex didn't react, there was no way he could do anything to apologise without looking as if he was trying to coddle the teenager.

Out of the corner of his eye, as he twisted to avoid another punch from the final man in D-Unit, Adder, lashing out with a back fist strike and catching the man a glancing blow to the jaw, he caught sight of the remains of the scaffolding, the dismantled boards and metal poles. A long weapon would be ideal right now, helping to balance some of the huge disadvantages of the situation Alex found himself in – severely outnumbered, by four men who had the advantage on him in height, weight, experience and training.

As fast as he dared, Alex edged their little group along the wall towards the scaffolding, all the while trying to maintain the too-fast, seemingly endless dance of block, return, twist, block… He took several blows, possibly more than the adrenaline of the fight let him realise, often twisting just in time so that a fist, or a kick hit a 'non-vital' area, such as his thigh, rather than driving into his knee, or into his lower back, rather than in his kidneys.

They were a few steps away when Adder landed a hard punch on Alex's cheekbone. He jerked back – it was surprisingly easy to forget how much being hit in the face hurt – with a slight hiss of pain, but was together enough to grab Falcon's wrist as he aimed another punch at him, this time at his stomach. He twisted the man's arm into an unthinkingly vicious half-nelson, only relaxing it when the man swore violently.

"Sorry." Alex told him, quietly. He looked back at the other men – Viper was coming round by now, and hopefully he'd take it in as well. "Nothing on the face, please. I can't explain it away so easily."

A little taken aback, the men just nodded; Alex let go of Falcon's arm, and the fight continued.

The fight from there on in was short and brutal; although Alex enjoyed the significant advantage of a long pole to help him fight them for maybe five or ten minutes, there were four of them, and Viper – now conscious again – sneaked up behind Alex, and managed to relieve him of the weapon. Once that was gone, and Alex was having to rely solely on his own hands and wits again, the fight was significantly against him, and though he kept it up for another good twenty minutes, it was clear that he was near exhaustion by the end.

Finally, it was Viper, the team leader, who ended the fight.

"Jesus, Cub." He said, the note of respect in his voice mixed with a slight hint of worry, "Has no one ever told you to quit while you're ahead?"

Alex shrugged, hands on knees, breathing hard, and trying to take stock of all his various injuries. He felt, appropriately, like he'd been battered all over, and all the aches were just starting to set in.

"You did well, though." Wasp spoke up, diffidently. "Seriously well."

Alex nodded, by way of response. "Thanks." He managed to gasp out, and Wasp nodded, seriously.

"You OK?" The last from Viper, who was watching him carefully. "We weren't exactly – gentle."

"You weren't being…as hard as you…could have been." Alex pointed out, still trying to get his breath back properly, though it was rapidly getting easier.

Viper considered this, but it was Falcon who answered. "Of course we weren't. We're not supposed to be trying to kill you, it's supposed to be a lesson." He paused. "A really _twisted_ lesson, but a lesson all the same."

Alex just shrugged. "Yeah… I guess."

"Do you feel educated?" Wasp muttered under his breath, and Viper gave him a dirty look.

"Like Wasp said, you did well, Cub. Nice situational awareness with the pole you got, though you could have used it better – maybe look into getting a few basic lessons with a long weapon. Also, try to keep your back to a wall as often as you can, you were taking risks you didn't need to. Your technique's good, and your stamina's good, too, though it could probably do with some work. You'll grow into it, anyway."

"What he's trying to say," Adder said, quietly, "Is that, for a fourteen year old, that was fucking amazing. He's just not quite sure how to say it."

"Something like that." Viper shrugged. "Yeah. You did good, Cub. Are you sure you're OK, though? Way I remember it, we did you over pretty well."

"I'll live." Alex shrugged.

"Right." Viper let it go at that, probably unwilling to push it any further than he had to, with this boy he barely knew. "What are you going to tell the rest of the brats about the bruise on your face?"

Alex touched the slight swelling on his left cheekbone, where Adder had hit him, and shrugged. "I'll say I fell over."

"And they'll buy that?" Falcon looked frankly disbelieving. "No offence, Cub, but you really don't strike me as the sort to just 'fall over' and give themselves a black eye."

"They think I'm totally useless." He said, carelessly. "They'll believe pretty much anything about me so long as it's bad."

Falcon looked at him for a long moment, then shrugged. "OK – whatever you say."

* * *

And there you have it. Hope you enjoyed! 

-ami xxx


	7. Chapter 7

Happy Good Friday! 

..I'm pretty certain you're not supposed to happy on Good Friday. What with the Saviour dying, and all. Bit tasteless maybe. Sorry..

And, since this will be my last update before Easter Proper, Happy Easter to you all! I hope you all have a good Easter weekend. Unless, of course, you're not Christian, in which case Ijust hope youall have a good weekend. 

So, the revision is going well, and I managed to polish this chapter off yesterday, and you all get an update! My third in three days. Lord, I'm good.

Anyway, my Alex Rider/Supernatural crossover -(groans) - is going well, and should be up around Monday, I think.. Watch out for that. And then, try not to beat me too much for mutilating two fandoms in one fell swoop. Dean is being particularly difficult; I don't CARE that Alex ruined his leather jacket - it was an accident. 

Those Winchesters can REALLY hold a grudge.

(grin) Sorry.

Right. On to the chapter, I think.

DISCLAIMER: I gave up my rights to Alex Rider for Lent.

* * *

_"Right." Viper let it go at that, probably unwilling to push it any further than he had to, with this boy he barely knew. "What are you going to tell the rest of the brats about the bruise on your face?"_

_Alex touched the slight swelling on his left cheekbone, where Adder had hit him, and shrugged. "I'll say I fell over."_

_"And they'll buy that?" Falcon looked frankly disbelieving. "No offence, Cub, but you really don't strike me as the sort to just 'fall over' and give themselves a black eye."_

_"They think I'm totally useless." He said, carelessly. "They'll believe pretty much anything about me so long as it's bad."_

_Falcon looked at him for a long moment, then shrugged. "OK – whatever you say."_

* * *

Alex headed back to the main camp area about half an hour later, having spent the last twenty minutes 'clearing up' the shed. His classmates had just been paired off to fight each other, and Alex watched the proceedings rather awkwardly from the door. He couldn't help but feel very much the outsider, isolated and alone.

Snake was the firstto see him, heading over, careful to keep his expression relatively neutral as he spoke to him. "How was it?" he asked, keeping his voice low; there was no way the rest of the class would be able to hear what he was saying over the noise they were making.

Alex frowned, slightly. "It was fine." He said, rather slowly. He had thought that K-Unit hadn't known about this particular aspect of his 'training', especially after finding out about his bullet wound, but quickly dismissed the thought before any part of it could show on his face. It wasn't like K-Unit was going to step in over this – if they even could. Alex was far from sure that his old team would have been able to do anything about this, even if they had wanted to, which they evidently didn't. "I just – worked with D-Unit." 

Snake nodded, relaxing minutely. "Yeah – Viper's supposed to be the best we have at hand-to-hand combat."

Alex, remembering the hits the man had got in with a suppressed wince, nodded fervently. "Yeah, he's good."

"And what happened there?" Snake asked, eyebrows drawing in a little, nodding towards the bruise on Alex's cheek.

He shrugged. "I was careless." He brushed it off, and Snake let it go at that.

* * *

Ben Ashley, over the other side of the room, watched as Alex talked to the 'medical' soldier – as they'd ended up calling him – 'Snake'. His friend kept his eyes down, only looking up a couple of times to meet the man's eyes; at one point he nodded, but he didn't seem to be giving too much. 'Snake' frowned; Alex shrugged.

Ben's eyes narrowed slightly in thought. There was something going on here, something he was missing – and he hated not getting puzzles.

Everyone knew Alex's story – the way he'd gone suddenly and vehemently off the rails after his uncle's death, had started skipping school, and came back with bruises and sick notes, even ending up in hospital one time, though they were all told it was 'appendicitis'. But no one knew why it had happened, and if he wasn't completely off the mark, Alex's 'cover', whatever it was, was thinner here than it was at school.

His partner, a girl he only vaguely knew called Charlotte, tapped him rather nervously on the shoulder.

"Um, Ben?" She said, voice soft and more than a little wary. "It's our turn next?"

He offered her a quick, rather distracted smile. "Sure. Sorry."

She smiled back. "What had you so distracted?" she asked, after a moment's pause.

Ben shook his head. "Oh, nothing much…"

* * *

By the time they'd got through all the pairs, correcting moves and helping each with their strengths and weaknesses, they were very nearly late for dinner in the mess hall. Alex, catching Wolf's eye and correctly interpreting the look he sent him, turned and tripped up the nearest person – who just happened to be Will Hartford.

"What the fuck is your problem?! Hartford asked, giving him a hefty shove backwards once he'd regained his balance; again, Alex suppressed the wince, and shrugged.

"It's payback." He told him, blandly, and Hartford went to shove him again, but Alex grabbed his arm and twisted, putting him in a half nelson. Hartford swore, and stepped heavily back on Alex's foot. In the thick army boots they'd been issued, Alex hardly felt it, but he made a show of pain, letting Hartford's arm go. 

The other boy twisted much faster than Alex would have expected, but he nonetheless had a guard up long before the other boy threw a rather wild punch at him. He slid under Hartford's guard, and flailed a punch at him which went deliberately wide; he didn't want anyone suspecting that he might be good at this.

It was only when he saw Hartford's fist come towards his face that he got the idea. Quickly, he twisted, allowing the blow to fall in almost exactly the same place as Adder had hit him earlier – though it was stunningly painful, it would give him a cast iron excuse for the bruise. He was relatively certain that no one had really seen it earlier.

Hartford grinned triumphantly as Alex hissed a swearword under his breath, but the grin slid off his face when a hand came down on his shoulder. 

"You two." Wolf gave them both his very best glare; Hartford actually blanched, and Alex pretended to cringe just a little. "We're not teaching you martial arts so you can kick the shit out of each other; you need to learn to take this seriously."

"Rider started it." Hartford muttered, rather sullenly, and was immediately backed up by the other kids standing around them.

"You didn't have to continue it." Eagle told him, firmly. "You'll have two hours of punishment duty with me tonight; we'll see if I can't teach you the value of team-work." Looking up into Eagle's stern, set face – the same face Alex had seen during his first training here – he couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for the other boy.

Wolf was still glaring at Alex. "Rider, you'll be with me."

Alex flinched.

* * *

After dinner, the rest of their classmates had free time until they had to be in bed, at seven – though they had all grumbled about the early time, all of them were surprised at how tired they were at the end of the day. Alex and Hartford ended up stood in the dining room, waiting for their 'instructors' to be ready for them.

"We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you." Will told him, sulkily, and Alex shrugged again.

"You were asking for it." He said, blandly, and Will gritted his teeth, glaring down at his shoes.

"You're a real bastard, Rider, you know that?"

Alex didn't bother replying.

Eagle took Hartford off about ten minutes later, to help in the medical centre, and Wolf gave Alex a quick nod. "You're with B-Unit tonight; they're giving a lecture on survival techniques which you'll be going to."

Alex nodded, slowly. "It's going to take two hours?" he asked, diffidently.

Wolf actually grinned, but it had a wicked edge to it. "Of course not."

* * *

Alex filed into rather rudimentary lecture hall with the other recruits just as he had the night before, the only difference being the wide berth he was given by all the other men. Alex himself ignored them just as effectively as they pretended to be ignoring him. 

B-Unit's lecture was short – just half an hour – but highly effective. At some point, they had evidently been stationed in a desert somewhere in the world, and they dealt with the issues of survival in high temperatures, one of the few things Ian had never gone into in very great detail with Alex, and he found himself getting genuinely interested in it.

At the end, the other recruits were summarily dismissed, and Alex could just hear the Sergeant outside telling them that that was the 'last of civilization they were going to see for the next three days'. 

Then Jackal called him down to the raised dais they had been lecturing from, and he pushed away all thoughts of the other recruits.

"Cub." Jackal actually held out a hand to him, which Alex took, torn between wariness and amusement – but the tall blond man just shook it firmly, with a quick nod. "Wolf mentioned that you missed our interrogation, um… lessons when you were here the first time, so we've been assigned to take you through the basics."

Alex nodded, slowly. "Why've you been assigned?" he asked, casually, but got his answer when Jackal shifted uncomfortably, flicking a glance at one of the other men in his squadron, a short, stocky man with a heavy line of scar tissue scored on his forehead, starting at his eyebrow and disappearing into his hairline. Hurriedly, he scrambled to cover the error. "Don't worry, sorry, it doesn't matter."

The scarred man smiled, with just the slightest hint of sarcasm in his expression. "They said you were quick on the uptake, Cub. Label me officially impressed." He paused, glancing at his team leader, who gave him an almost imperceptible nod of encouragement. "I've been – interrogated, and I'm far enough over it now to be able to give you some practical advice. We don't have time to take you through all of the subtleties, so they figured we'd be the best to deal with it."

"Right." Alex nodded – it made sense. He just hoped this wasn't going to be too difficult for the man. "I'm sorry, but – I don't know your names, except yours." This last was addressed to Jackal. "And… you're Hawk, right?" It was the same man who had tried to grill him about Scorpia on his first day here, before Eagle had intervened.

The man nodded, all the traces of warmth and interest which had been present in his face that morning totally gone now. Rather uncomfortably, Alex nodded at him, and looked back at Jackal, who hurried through the introductions. The short, stocky man was introduced as 'Bear', and the last member of the team, a dark man, whipcord-thin and intelligent, was 'Cobra'.

"Right." Bear began, once all the introductions had been made, "So, have you been interrogated before?"

Alex allowed himself a small, humourless smile. "Once or twice."

Bear began to say something, then cut himself off before the first syllable was fully formed. "Y'know, I was about to say 'good'. He said, with a dry smile. "I've obviously been doing this job for far too long." Instantly, he was all professionalism. "So, how did you deal with it?"

Hawk snorted, muttering something which sounded distinctly negative; Alex did his best to ignore him, and shrugged, rather awkwardly.

"I kind of… didn't." He paused, seeing their blank looks, and tried to elaborate. "I couldn't- it was..quot; he dithered for a few moments, before remembering wherehe was.These men weren't interested in his personal hang-ups;they just wanted the information. He had to 'switch off' the personal side of it for the moment. "It kind of depended." He said, finally, very quietly.

"On what?" Bear asked, encouragingly.

"What they were using as – intimidation."

"And what was the worst?" Bear's expression was totally without censure, but Alex didn't miss the deeply unfriendly look he was getting from Hawk.

Trying to ignore the man, Alex suppressed a shiver, thinking back to the hideous nightmare which had been his assignment on Skeleton Key. "This man – he was going to"A momentary pause, "mince me."

Bear frowned, and opened his mouth, but Hawk cut across him, his voice sharp. "What, you couldn't bear the idea of something mucking your face up once you'd died?"

Alex met his eyes squarely. "They weren't planning on killing me first." He said, softly, his eyes fixed on the floor, and even the stoic Jackal winced.

"Right." Bear attempted to pull the conversation back on track. "So… apart from that, do you normally withstand interrogation or not?"

He considered it for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, I suppose I do, really."

"How?"

Alex shrugged. "Well, the best defence is a good offence, right?"

Jackal frowned, his arms crossed over his chest. "What do you mean?" he asked, slowly.

"I just try to annoy them into.. he paused, carefully rephrasing what he wanted to say in his head. Somehow, he had a feeling that even these men might react badly if he told them that his usual method of withstanding torture and interrogation was to annoy his captors into beating him unconscious as quickly as possible. "I can't talk if I'm not conscious, you know?" he skirted, rather awkwardly.

Bear gave him an uncomfortably shrewd look. "Manipulating your captor into beat you unconscious is a good rudimentary attempt, but it's not exactly – safe, is it?"

Alex nodded, slowly. "No, but it was all I had."

Hawk was frowning darkly. "Don't give me tha-" he started, his voice harsh, but was instantly cut off by Jackal, who glared at him. 

"Pete, maybe you should sit this one out." He said, firmly, and Alex stared, shocked at hearing Jackal – who reminded him strongly of Wolf in his unbending attitude towards the rules and regulations of their corps – using Hawk's real name. 

Hawk met his team leader's eyes, expression sullen and rebellious. "Jackal…"

"It wasn't a suggestion, _Hawk_." Jackal told him, softly, and Hawk glowered, but obeyed, turning on his heel and marching out of the hall, back stiff with disapproval. 

When Jackal looked back, Alex tore his eyes away quickly, staring down at the floorboards; but he looked up in time to see the look Jackal exchanged with Cobra. Whatever was going on with B-Unit was not pretty, and Alex was damn sure he didn't want to get involved in it. Something had robbed them of the unthinking cohesion he saw in the other units – D-Unit and K-Unit in particular, since they were the units he had most contact with – and something told Alex it was going to be a long and difficult road back to regaining it.

Jackal gave Alex a long look. "Sorry about that, Cub." He told him, after a moment's pause. "Look, I need to talk to him."

Alex nodded, immediately. "Yes,sir." He was sharp enough to notice the Jackal's quickly-hidden glance of surprise at that.

He waited until Jackal, too, had left, before turning to Bear. His brown eyes met the stocky man's hazel dead on; evidently, the two remaining members of B-Unit were waiting to see how he would react. "So." He said, quietly. "Withstanding interrogation. You said you had tips?"

Very slowly, Bear smiled.

* * *

When Alex got back to the barracks, exactly two hours after he'd left them, he found Hartford regaling the rest of the boys with the story of his trials and tribulations – but he turned on Alex the minute he walked through the door.

"D'you know what I ended up doing because of you?" he hissed, getting right into Alex's face.

Alex, head still reeling from the lesson he'd just had, blinked at him. "No. What?"

"I scrubbed floors with antiseptic! For two hours!" He hissed, right in Alex's face, "I stink of the sodding stuff!" Alex blinked again. He couldn't help but think that, compared with being told that 'if they start cutting bits off you, start talking; heroism is all very well, but there are limits; tell half-truths if you think you'll get away with it', and being informed that he could 'never rely on the fact that someone will be coming to get you. You have to act like you're totally on your own', Will had got off lightly with his floor-scrubbing. "What did you do, Rider? I bet you got some easy task, because you're _sickly_, right?"

Alex shrugged, his mind less than half-focussed on the conversation. "Yeah. I stacked shelves in the kitchen." He said, rather absently, before looking back at Hartford and frowning slightly. "Why do you hate me?" he asked, quite casually, stepping round the other boy and heading for his bed.

Hartford paused, visibly taken aback. "You're the one who tried to beat me up, remember?"

"Yeah, but you started it." Alex pointed out, turning towards the wall so as to hide his bullet wound, preparing his T-shirt to put on before whipping his shirt off and pulling the thin cotton on quickly, trying to act nonchalant when completely aware that the eyes of all seventeen boys in his class were fixed avidly on them.

"Grow up, Rider." Hartford sneered back, taking refuge in insults, rather than actually answer the question; the last thing he wanted to do, Alex reflected a little morbidly, was admit to being jealous of the school weirdo.

"You did take it too far though, didn't you?" Joe Radcliffe said, quietly, and Alex remembered that Joe was a good friend of Hartford's. 

He shrugged. "Did I?"

"Yeah." To Alex's shock, it was Tom speaking, and he gave him an incredulous look. Tom simply shrugged, and in his shock, Alex missed his slightly uncomfortable expression.

Ben shook his head, frowning. "Alex was just reacting to what Will did to hi-"

Alex managed to get in just before Hartford could retort. "Look," he said, turning back to the barracks, holding his hands up and trying to look conciliatory, "We're supposed to be learning team-work, right? So lets not make things even more difficult for ourselves by arguing." He looked over at Hartford. "I'm sorry, OK?"

The only reaction he got was a grunt, but it was better than nothing. Nodding, he pulled back the rough blanket, and slid into bed. Although he was facing away from the rest of his year, he could feel their eyes on him as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

For once, they managed to sleep the night through, though Alex was willing to bet K-Unit had a double dose of hell waiting for them that day, as he slipped out of bed for his morning assignment at the shooting range, once again with F-Unit. Eagle was there as well – as always, in fact – and he gave Alex a quick, rather preoccupied smile.

"Sleep well, Cub?" he asked, for once sounding genuinely sincere.

Alex looked at him for a long moment, frowning lightly, considering him. "Yeah – for once."

Eagle just nodded, attention obviously mostly elsewhere. "Good…"

Alex paused for a moment, considering his possible responses, before shaking his head and settling for silence.

Bear smiled at Alex, looking just as distracted as Eagle, as he entered the range itself, and both Jackal and Cobra nodded to him, but Hawk's reaction was to stare stonily at him for a second before turning away. Though Alex knew that all the other men noticed, nothing was said.

Eagle drew Jackal into a conversation, making the occasional emphatic gesture, his face very serious – but Alex's attention was soon drawn away by the Sergeant, who called him over.

"Cub, get your arse over here and stop daydreaming…"

* * *

Eagle walked him half-way back to the barracks as usual, for once without trying to start a conversation, his face still in that same serious expression. After a few minutes of deeply uncomfortable silence, it was Alex who finally broke it.

"Is – everything OK?" he asked, tentatively, aiming for 'casual' and far from sure that he actually achieved it.

Eagle looked at him rather blankly and said nothing for a couple of seconds. Alex was about to repeat the question when the man nodded, jerkily, and forced a quick smile. "Yeah. Yeah, sorry. Everything's fine."

Had Alex been anywhere else, with anyone else, he would have pressed for a real answer, tried to find out what was going on. But he was on the SAS training ground, with Eagle, and he was far from comfortable enough with the situation to push his luck; he had absolutely no desire to lose the minimal goodwill he seemed to be getting from K-Unit. So he just nodded, and they lapsed into silence again.

"So, what are we doing today?" he tried, after a few seconds pause.

Eagle shook his head with a slight frown. "I'm sorry, Cub." He said, quietly, "But I really don't know. Look, I'll see you later, OK? I, er… I've got to go." He didn't even wait for Alex to reply before striding off.

Alex was left behind, bewildered and bizarrely hurt by Eagle's abrupt attitude. Mentally, he shook himself, knowing that it was utterly ridiculous to let himself be affected by this, but… it was difficult all the same. He was so isolated from the rest of his peer-group, especially here of all places, and K-Unit had been the people who provided a support base of sorts. They knew about him, they didn't question him, they didn't doubt him, they didn't mock him, and Alex had enjoyed that acceptance.

It seemed he'd mistaken acceptance for friendship, he thought, rather ruefully, and reset his shoulders inside the too-large combat jacket. It was a mistake he'd be careful not to make again.

* * *

By the time he got back to the barracks, despite the less-than-convincing pep talk he'd tried to give himself, he was thoroughly depressed, and in absolutely no mood to try and keep the fragile peace he had with the rest of the boys. From where he was, it didn't seem like any of them were willing to make any effort for him, and there was no reason he should have to do all the work.

So when Ben took him to one side and asked him, very seriously, where he went ever morning, he was less than helpful.

"I go for walks." He said, flatly. 

"Every morning?" Ben asked, sceptically.

"Yes." Alex told him, in a voice which brooked no opposition.

"Look, Alex, I'm just trying to help-"

"I've never asked you to; I don't want your _help_." Alex snapped, and regretted it immediately, watching as Ben turned away, his face closing into cold, hurt lines. He wanted to take it back – but didn't know how.

Then, miraculously, Ben turned back. His expression hadn't changed, but his words weren't the accusation Alex had been waiting for. "Look, Alex…" he paused, obviously trying to phrase his comment before he said it. "There's something strange about you, and I'm just – we just want to know. Maybe you don't need my help, but…" he trailed off, and Alex shook his head.

"I'm sorry." He said, painfully. "There's nothing wrong with me; I'm just – I get sick easily." The lie felt bitter on his tongue, and it hurt to watch Ben turn away again, knowing that he wouldn't turn back this time.

* * *

Breakfast was deeply uncomfortable, with Tom shooting him unfathomable glances without speaking to him, and Ben adding his own ha'penny of guilt to the sum by giving Alex his own reproachful, slightly worried looks over their porridge-slush. For once, it was a relief when they left to start on the day's activities. 

Wolf met them in the 'Rendezvous' area – which had immediately been shortened to the R-V zone – just outside the mess hall, with a face like thunder.

"Right – we've divided you up into groups of five, with one group of six, and you'll stay in these groups for the rest of your time here, has everyone got that? I don't care if you're not with your little friends; you'll stick in your groups and get the hell on with it." He paused, and took another deep breath. "You'll be tested on how well you can work as a team, so I expect all of you to make an effort, is that clear?"

In the ensuing silence, Charlotte put her hand up nervously, looking like she couldn't quite believe what she was doing. Most of the people around her seemed to share the same incredulity, from the looks she was getting.

Wolf raised an eyebrow minutely. "Yes?"

"Well, um…" she swallowed, reflexively, nerves drying out her mouth. "I was just wondering… did _you_ have to work at, um… being a team?"

Wolf gave her a sharp, thoughtful look, before nodding. "Of course we did. Some of us didn't get on at all to start with." And if his eyes flicked to Alex, no one noticed.

"Right." Snake stepped forwards, breaking the moment, his face as neutral and business-like as ever. "When I read out your name, I want you to go and stand in your groups. Anyone who complains," he gave them a look at least as sharp and threatening as any Wolf could produce. "Will have punishment duty every night until you leave. And don't even _think_ of trying to change your groups, because we _will_ notice." He let it hang in the air for a moment before producing a list. "OK then. Group One…"

Alex was unsurprisingly in the group of six, with Tom, Ben, Charlotte, Joe and Katie. Wolf made a point of saying that they'd put Alex in the 'six' so his group wouldn't suffer when he had to do 'something delicate enough for him'.

Somehow, the day ahead was looking even bleaker.

* * *

They were marched down to the assault course, as always, and for once K-Unit didn't just send them over blindly.

"Since you've obviously missed that this supposed to be a team-working exercise, we'll show you how you're _supposed_ to be doing this. You go over as a _team_…"

They took the kids to each part of the equipment, watching – some more attentively than others – as K-Unit showed them how they could deal with each obstacle more easily as a team. When they'd gone over the entire course, the team jogged them back to the beginning, and tackled the course themselves at full speed

They were back in under twenty minutes.

"Sickening, isn't it?" Ben murmured, and the rest of their 'team' nodded.

"Yeah. Sickening." Tom agreed, his eyes on Alex, but the blond boy was careful not to meet his gaze.

Their 'team' – despite being a mismatched group, at best – did relatively well now that they'd been shown how to deal with the courses. Fox, timing them at the end, gave them a quick nod.

"Better." He told them, briefly. "You'll improve."

Alex waited for a couple of seconds to be picked up for some minor mistake and told to stay behind, but it never came. Worse, he didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

* * *

Wolf gave them a nod when they'd all completed the course, with varying degrees of success. "Groups Three and Four stay behind – you could do with some work on this, and you're not trying hard enough to work as a team." Alex noticed idly that Group Three included Will Hartford, and suppressed the urge to gloat, even internally. "The rest of you – you've got ten minutes to get to Area 12. Anyone who's late will be doing the assault course for the rest of the day." There was a moment's pause, and Snake raised a sarcastic eyebrow. 

"You all want to go over again that badly?" he asked, quietly and a couple of people shifted, but apparently, no one wanted to be the first to move.

Unsurprisingly, it was Wolf who lost patience first. "C'mon, _get_!" he barked, and there was a scramble as twenty one teenagers hurried to leave.

Alex found himself separated from his team, and spared a moment to reflect that they weren't doing so well at learning teamwork, before heading down towards Area 12, slowly. He knew exactly where he was going – and was a little worried about it, since, if memory served him correctly, Area 12 was where they created battle simulations for the new recruits – but the rest of his class didn't, and he didn't want to give away any more clues to anyone about his 'secret'. Some of his classmates were already far too interested.

Though it would possibly serve Blunt and Mrs. Jones right if Alex's cover did get blown. The whole sorry idea of training an entire class of school children with the SAS was their fault, after all.

Alex was drawn out of his thoughts by the sound of one of the sergeants bellowing uncomfortably close. "…you think I am, a tour guide?!

He tried not to grin. Someone had obviously tried to ask for directions, and if Alex knew anything about the camp sergeants, it was that they weren't going to take kindly to it. And they could be impressively creative with their punishments…

* * *

Ten minutes later, though, everyone was safely assembled in a clearing in the heavily-wooded Area 12, although five people had only just made it on time, and had been given an hour of punishment duty that night; Wolf listened calmly to their all-too-vocal protests, then told them that life wasn't fair, it was about time they learnt that, and they should just shut up and get on with it unless they wanted an hour more.

It wasn't that surprising, then, that the entire class was listening in dead silence to the man.

"Right." He told them, firmly. "We sincerely hope that you're not going to end up in a situation where you're getting shot at-"

"Though _we_ want to shoot you quite regularly." Eagle put in helpfully, and Alex was relatively sure that he was the only one who saw Wolf step hard on his team-mate's foot.

"But it is possible you'll end up in just such a situation – which is why you're here, after all. So, we've created a battle-like situation for you, so you're at least somewhat accustomed to it." Everyone was looking rather uncomfortable now, when Wolf said, quietly, "We're going to start off by giving you weapons, and slowly wean you off them over the next couple of days, so you're used to evening the odds if you end up in a situation like this."

Despite being on the edge of the crowd of children, Alex wasn't even given a gun, but just seeing the ones his classmates were being given, he knew why Wolf had been so careful to make this whole exercise sound so forbidding.

They were being taken paintballing – SAS style.

Around him, the other kids started to whisper, evidently noticing exactly what Alex had noticed, and Wolf actually had to shout to get the growing swell of excitement to die down. 

"You'll be working in your groups." He told them, firmly, once he had their attention back, "Each group has a different colour, the group which takes out the most opposition will get the most points. The prize – you'll find out." He shrugged. "Other than that, normal rules apply. There's a perimeter, and this whole wood is rigged up with CCTV, so we'll know if you cheat and leave, is everyone clear on that?" Fervent nods all around; Wolf's tone promised a slow and painful death to anyone who disobeyed. "The same is true for anyone who breaks any of the other rules."

One boy – Katie's boyfriend, Alex thought, but he couldn't be totally sure – put up his hand. "Isn't it good to break the rules? I mean, they won't be expecting that, right?"

Alex remembered, all too vividly, the horrific GameSlayer level he'd been forced through, which he'd only survived by breaking all the rules he could think of, and suppressed a shudder.

He'd half-thought that Wolf would explode at the boy, and was more than a little surprised when he just nodded, thoughtfully.

"It's a good idea, yeah. But then, you've got to learn the rules before you can break them. And you've got to remember, there _aren't_ any rules in a situation like that. If any of you manage to successfully break them before the end of this week – and I mean, survive and get past _us_ – we'll have done a good job. But I doubt you will." He grinned suddenly, with only the barest hint of humour. "We are the best, after all."

Snake looked over at Alex, and said, sharply, "Rider. You're going to be sitting this one out. It's too strenuous for you."

Alex frowned, darkly, and was about to complain when Joe Radcliffe beat him to it. "Why is Rider always doing something different? I thought we were supposed to be learning teamwork. And if we _do_ get attacked, he'll be there too; doesn't he need to learn these things too?"

Wolf shrugged, looking at him. "Yeah, but it's not our fault he's too weak for this." A couple of the boys looked a little troubled by this; it was difficult to forget that Alex had, until recently, been in the first football team, among other sporting achievements. He'd dropped to the fourth pretty quickly after his uncle's death, but it planted a couple of doubts where Alex didn't want them. To his relief, though, the greater majority of the boys looked to be hiding smirks. It hurt a little; but Alex couldn't bring himself to care too much, and he concentrated back on what Wolf was saying. "…basically, he sits this stuff out because anyone who's attacking you is allowed to try and kill him – we don't have the same luxury. We're just covering our arses."

Joe nodded.

"Right." Fox was talking. "With the exception of Rider, D- and F-Unit are going to take you to your 'starting points', and you'll hear the signal when you can start, and again when it's over. Remember, after this one, once you've got an idea of what it's like, we'll be trying to make this a little more realistic. Take it seriously, alright?"

Alex had the feeling that his former team-mate was fighting a losing battle. Worse, Fox knew it.

"OK." The redhead sighed. "Viper, Lemur, they're all yours."

Alex stood to one side, looking sullen, while his classmates were taken away; when the clearing was empty, Wolf stalked over to him. 

"If your class do get attacked, we fully expect that you'll be the best asset you've got; but they can't know it, obviously. So, your job is to try and take every single member of your class out – without them realising that you're even there." He handed Alex a slightly different gun to his classmates. "If you don't manage it, Cub, you'll be on punishment until you've forgotten what your bed even looks like, is that clear?"

"Yes sir." Alex told him, only sounding faintly sarcastic.

Wolf gave him a hard look, before shrugging and turning away. "Fox is going to take you to your starting point."

Alex paused. "Are you lot taking part in it?" he asked, not bothering to try and sound casual about it.

Wolf gave him a frankly wicked grin, uncomfortably similar to the one he'd given Alex earlier. "Of course."

He nodded, turning and falling into step with Fox. When he was sure they were out of Wolf's earshot, he said, quietly, "A fiver says I can get Wolf in the face."

Fox glanced down at him – he had a good four inches on Alex's five foot nine – and paused, before quirking a quick, conspiratorial grin at him. "You're on. And," he paused, momentarily, before giving Alex a grin too like Wolf's for comfort, "A tenner says you can't get Eagle where it really hurts."

Alex grinned back. "Deal."

Fox left him just inside the boundary, a way away from the other groups and Alex checked over his gun, making sure it was functional, checking the 'rounds', the paint, that he had.

A klaxon blared from somewhere behind him, and Alex allowed himself a moment before he set off.

He had a target to meet – in more ways than one.

* * *

And there you have it. I hope you enjoyed! And reviewers, of course, get hot cross buns, it being Good Friday and all.

Apparently, I'm trying to give all of my readers heart attacks - cookies, then Easter Eggs (which of course, none of you can eat until Sunday! I'm watching you), then hot cross buns. Just doing my bit for those rising obesity levels..

Enjoy them for me, please? (The buns, not the obesity levels.)I gave up butter for Lent, so I can't fully enjoy a hot cross bun until Sunday when it's over. (sigh)

Anyway, drop me a line if you fancy a nice, buttery, plump hot cross bun.. (tempts)

(grin) 

-amitai


	8. Chapter 8

So, another chapter of HIOP, another Author's Note of Dooooom. Firstly, and most importantly, MY BABY'S BACK!! My laptop, she works. (huggles) I love her. And thank you to all the people who offered their advice, comfort and condolences - I love you too: **Sedesapientia**, **Enchanting Elf, MsVonnegut, michellefromhell, Atsumi, Celestial Pendent, solfire, pyramidgirl89, Lady Zaraboti, Koruyuha, Beefcake the Mighty, Lady-Snape7, oirishgoddess, HidingInACorner, Nyxelestia, CrazyCadet, bamboo, ThReE AqUiLa, JaBoyYa, Rasgara, Illusjon, kayinay, MauraderetteLily, flitshadowflame, keatlin, TurnSmileShiftRepeat, n2, wanna cry, night.phoenix, Shadowgal ANBU, Braze Rancor **and **vampassassin**. Your support meant a lot, so thank you for it!

Right, on to other things. Firstly, and most importantly, a **BIG SHOUT-OUT TO VON**, ladies and gentlemen, without whom paint-balling in HIOP would never have existed. See, back in - oh, August? September? - last year, she did this awesome drabble for me which was set in the HIOP universe where they all went paintballing. And I shamelessly gacked most of it. Seriously, that scene down there? Yeah, I had such horrific writers block over it, I borrowed very heavily from her awesome drabble. She and I are working on a site (well, mostly she. (blush) I'm such a bad friend!) for all our fics, so hopefully she'll put it up there, and you can read the original in all it's glory. Von, darling, this is all for you.

And now for something completely different - people, I am coming out of the closet, to all of you. Yes, that's right... I'm an ABBA fan. I haven't seen the film of Mamma Mia (frankly, seeing the musical on stage was enough to scare me for life, why on earth would I inflict it on myself in it's full Hollywood, technicolour glory?!), but I am nonetheless, a Fan. They're so _cheerful_! I love it! Money problems? That's OK, money might be difficult for you, but it '_must be funny in a rich man's world'_. Underage sex? Well, '_does your mother know that you're out'_? Lost your love? Ah, well, you know, '_the winner takes it all'_. A more downbeat song than usual, true, but a good beat makes up for so much, and once you've listened to it for a bit you'll be begging for a '_man after midnight'_. They're a little cheesy, a little much, but - I love them. They're so cheerful. Genius.

Plus, they won Eurovision, and anyone who can make a genuine career for themselves after a setback like that deserves everything they can lay their little hands on. (grin)

That's all from me, folks. The obligatory WARNING: Some swearing. I have marked this before, but people keep complaining. Really, they're SAS, folks. They're not going to censor themselves, are they?

And the fragrant and lovely DISCLAIMER: _Well, I could chat with you, baby, flirt a little, maybe_, and that might get me the book rights to Alex Rider, cos at the moment I got nothin'.

Let's go.

* * *

Alex stood still for a few moments, before creeping towards the edge of the clearing, where he stood for a few moments in silence, listening carefully for any tell-tale noises. He didn't have to wait long; a little way off, maybe fifty metres or so, three or four of the guns went off at once, and he smiled, grimly. His classmates weren't going to take this exercise seriously until they came face-to-face with the SAS teams 'on duty'. Some paint in painful places might convince them that circumspection could keep them alive.

Alex moved towards the sound of the firing, hoping that they would be so distracted they wouldn't notice some extra paint being fired at them.

Two of the groups, including Will Hartford's, were in a clearing about thirty metres away from his starting point, having an all-out paint war, dodging behind the trees and almost revelling in the amount of paint they could manage to get on each other. Alex chose his position carefully, noticing that one of the groups had at least thought to post a 'sentry' to check for approaching SAS. With a grin, he decided on his strategy.

Picking a bush the other side of the clearing, behind the 'sentry', he took careful aim, and hit the boy square in the middle of the back. He turned, looking outraged, and distracted everyone by shouting,

"We agreed that I was off-limits! We agreed!"

Casually, Alex picked off a couple of the boys, striking three people off his mental tally, before the actual fighting began. The two groups assumed positions at either end of the clearing, and started firing at each other, but from Alex's position, they were obvious; it was easy to take out one after another, without them even realising.

The remaining four groups proved to be a little more difficult; Alex had first to find them. One had been relatively sensible about the whole thing, and holed themselves up in an area of thick brush, and were firing at anything which moved; after considering the problem for a few minutes from the safety of a bush with heavy foliage and a good sight-line, Alex headed up one of the nearest trees far enough away from them that they wouldn't shoot at him as he got into position, but close enough that he could still see them to hit them, his gun slung over his back. Their tactic was sensible, and might save their lives in a real situation, but on the other hand, if _Alex_ could see the obvious way round it, it would be foolish to hope that a group of highly-trained terrorists wouldn't notice it.

He picked them off one by one, amidst the noise of their muffled swearing, then slipped down the tree and away before they had the time to regroup.

The problem was, Alex knew that so far, he'd just got lucky. Not with his classmates – he could have picked them off with one hand tied behind his back and still not get noticed. No, he'd been lucky that Eagle and the rest of K-Unit who were 'in the field' for this activity hadn't found him yet. He knew that Eagle in particular wasn't going to waste time on any of the civilian brats, and somehow he had to pick off a further twelve people whilst dealing with the fact that the greater part of an SAS team was actively gunning for him.

Today couldn't get much better, he thought as he ran.

A burst of 'gunfire' from his left almost had him swerving right before he recognised the silver paint as the SAS, and realised the tactic they were using – the paint on the ground near him showed that the shooter was still a good few feet out of range, and Alex would bet his right arm that they were trying to lure him into the range of another shooter on his left. With an extra burst of speed, he carried on, running into a nearby clearing, and veering sharply left and doubling back on himself, heading in a circle which would theoretically take him behind the person who had shot at him.

It was Fox, which didn't surprise Alex in the least. He didn't have a hope in hell of sneaking up on the man, but if he could just get in range…

One 'bullet' later, and Fox had a pink stain of paint right across his back and was swearing fluently. Alex started to grin, when he felt the cold metal tip of a gun at the back of his neck.

"Nice one, Cub. You got one of us, at least." It was Eagle, and he was grinning, the bastard – Alex could hear it in his voice. "Time out for you, though."

Alex dropped his gun, letting it hang on its strap around his neck, putting his hands in the air. So long as the gun was still against the back of his neck, he had both time and a chance – Eagle would never shoot him there from point-blank range.

"Thought it was worth a try." He muttered, and made his move. Twisting round faster than Eagle could possibly have anticipated, he grabbed the barrel of the gun and wrenched upwards and right. Eagle, surprised, found the gun yanked out of his hands, and Alex grinned, allowing himself a moment of triumph.

Only a moment, though; Eagle was both bigger and better trained than Alex, and Alex knew from experience that giving someone a monologue only gave them a chance to come up with a plan. With a frankly evil grin – Eagle actually winced a little – Alex took several quick steps back, aimed, and fired. The man howled.

Still grinning, Alex slipped the magazine out of Eagle's gun, and tossed the now-empty gun back at the weakly-swearing soldier. Then he turned and ran.

Now it was just his remaining classmates and Wolf to go.

He picked off one of the remaining teams relatively casually, lying in wait in some thick undergrowth, and taking them out as the passed about twenty metres away from him.

The remaining two groups couldn't have made it easier for him if they had tried. He was hiding for two reasons; Eagle was almost certainly out for some painful revenge, and he had spent the few minutes in which the man would have been incapacitated finding a good hiding place. While he wanted to complete Wolf's 'assignment', he wasn't willing to do it at the risk of losing limbs.

The first group literally ended up right on top of him – Alex winced as one of the girls stood heavily on his fingers. They had evidently all been running, from the way they were breathing, and Alex supposed the adrenaline kept her from noticing that the ground she was standing on felt odd. Her only reaction was to adjust her weight slightly, grinding Alex's hand a little harder into the ground.

Alex winced again.

"Did we loose them?" one of the boys panted.

"Thing so." Dimly, Alex wondered who they had been running from. If the girl, whoever she was, would just _get off his hand_, maybe he could think a little clearer.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she moved, shifting again and blessedly moving off his poor, abused hand. Her group didn't seem willing to leave the little clearing they had found any time soon, but at least she wasn't stood on his hand anymore. Surreptitiously, he flexed his fingers and tried to pretend the pain away.

What he really needed was for them to leave so he could get on with his task and pick them off as they left the clearing. After all, they would assume that they were being attacked by whoever it was they had been running from, and they had no way of discovering the truth – they didn't know the colour of the other groups' paint. Unless it was the SAS they had been running from, Alex was safe. And it couldn't have been the SAS. If it had been, they would never have got away.

However, they seemed all set to stay, and, silently, he cursed his bad luck. Somehow, he had to sneak out of here, without four teenagers on hyper-alert notice him leaving.

He had only just started moving when his luck kicked in again; a few metres away came the sound of shots and heave feet running through the brush. Alex resisted the urge to roll his eyes – had _none_ of his classmates ever heard of subtlety?

Either way, he reflected as he furtively readied his gun, fitting it carefully to his shoulder, it worked to his advantage. It was easy to sneak in the necessary shots; the last remaining group blundered into the clearing thirty seconds after Alex had first heard their approach, and both teams were so high on adrenaline, they never noticed the extra shots daubing their jackets with paint.

The never noticed the undergrowth rustle as Alex slid out of the clearing, his task completed as far as they were concerned.

It was just Wolf now, Alex realised, once he was clear of the paint-filled carnage he had left behind. His grin was worryingly feral as he set off in search of his erstwhile team-mate.

He supposed, really, he should _try_ to pick off a couple of the other members of the SAS, as well, but that was really a asking a lot – just as he was exponentially better than his classmates, K-Unit were a fair sight better than him. They were SAS, after all, not to mention much older, with the benefit of much more experience, and much more consistent training. It had been asking a lot for him to get Eagle and Wolf, but to factor Fox into the bargain as well…

At least he didn't have to worry about Snake. The last member of K-Unit was watching the cameras rigged through the forests in order to make sure that none of the kids broke the rules…

Alex stopped dead as that thought hit him. _The cameras_. How could he have been so _stupid_? Cameras! Snake was watching the cameras, he probably knew exactly where he was right now! And what was the betting that Wolf and the rest of them were wired up for sound?

As he made his way through the forest, he was torn between looking up to try and spot the cameras, and looking down to try and hide his face. In the end, though, he reasoned it was safest just to act as normally as he could. After all, a solitary blond boy would be enough to get Snake sending Wolf, Eagle and Fox to his position, so there was no point trying to head himself at all. But equally, there was no reason to make it any easier for them. He had enough to worry about without keeping his eyes off where he was going by trying to pick out cameras.

After a few minutes of walking, Alex glanced around, and carefully adopted a heavy limp, limping from the knee as though in agony, twisting his face into an expression of pain; when Wolf appeared five minutes later – Alex hadn't been looking for them, but he would have had to have been blind to miss the glint of a camera lens two minutes back – he paused momentarily on seeing Alex's obvious injury. Briefly, Alex sent up a grateful prayer that Wolf hadn't seen his 'little boy lost' routine at Point Blanc.

"Sorry." He said, adding a threat of pain to his voice he knew Wolf wouldn't miss. It was low, playing on the man's better instincts, but since Alex wasn't entirely sure that Wolf _had_ many better instincts, he didn't feel too bad. Not to mention, he would never beat the man otherwise. "I just…" he broke off, flinching violently as he had to adjust his weight. He shrugged, which brought his gun sliding forward, nearer to his hands. "I didn't mean to… to…" he broke off, trembling violently, his voice shaking to a stop.

Wolf took a step forwards – Alex quickly took one back, grimacing in pain as he stepped on his 'bad' leg, hands clutching convulsively at his gun as though he was trying to find some support from it.

Wolf tried to look placating, though, Alex noted with interest, sympathetic facial expressions really weren't his forte. "Look, C-" he broke the word off, eyes sliding to the dense coverage surrounding them, "Kid," he amended. "You're going into shock, I've got to get you to-"

He didn't have the chance to get any further, as Alex took some of the same quick steps backwards he had used on Eagle – he didn't want to cause any lasting damage, after all – and fired off a round straight in Wolf's face when he was far enough away.

The man swore loudly. "You little _bitc_-"

Alex turned and ran. It would take the man a few moments to wipe the paint out of his eyes, but Alex needed all the head-start he could get. He might be faster, but Wolf was going to be furious.

Sure enough, a few seconds later Wolf was hot on his heels; as far as Alex could tell, he had maybe five minutes before the klaxon announcing the end of the 'activity' went off, but it was looking less than certain that he would survive that long…

He veered right suddenly – it wouldn't shake the man off in the slightest, but he was heavier on his feet than Alex, and it would at least delay him. As soon as he had got his own feet back under him after the sharp turn, he swerved again, this time to the left, wildly firing a shot over his shoulder. From the way Wolf was swearing, Alex had got lucky, but it seemed to have done nothing more serious than give the man ideas of his own, since Alex heard a shot go off, and lunged to one side just in time. The shot smacked firmly into his arm, but it didn't count him out of the 'game'. Not yet. But if he didn't lose Wolf soon…

Not that anyone else seemed to be paying attention to that rule – but Alex just knew that if he was the one to break it, Wolf would give him punishment duty for the rest of his _life_.

Up ahead, through the trees, he could see salvation – a group of four or five SAS, stood in one of the wood's many man-made clearings.

He put on an extra burst of speed and dashed through it before they had a chance to fire off any shots at him – startling men with all-too-easy trigger fingers was never a good idea but it was all he had at the moment, and he just had to hope that if he took them by enough surprise, they wouldn't have the chance to shoot him – and cried,

"They're coming!"

Then he carried straight on running. By the time Wolf arrived in the clearing, all of his comrades were at the ready, and he was hit with five rounds of silver paint.

Stood at the edge of the clearing, dripping silver paint, and with drying pink paint spattered across his face and half his neck, he glared at all of them.

"You _idiots_." He said, scathingly, voice dripping distain as heavily as his clothes were dripping paint.

Alex watched from high in the tree he had hastily climbed as soon as everyone's attention was elsewhere, and grinned.

* * *

When the klaxon blared three minutes later, Alex swung himself down from the tree with an acute sense of relief. He had survived. More, he had reached his target – life was good.

He was trembling as the adrenaline began to wear off, but life was definitely good.

The adrenaline of the 'fight' had also served to mask the pain of the damage he had suffered during his lesson with D-Unit, and he was starting to ache with a vengeance. For the moment, though, it didn't matter. Victory was sweet.

He couldn't go and meet his classmates at the assembly area; after all, he wasn't supposed to have taken part in the activity at all. But he was looking forward to seeing Eagle again. Hopefully, someone would stop the man from strangling him too much.

He ran as fast as he could to Barracks 11, where he remembered seeing several old cans of whitewash. Most of them were dry when he prised their lids off, but a couple still had useable paint inside. Using his fingers, he splattered as much of the stuff onto his jacket as he could, effectively hiding the silver paint on the sleeve, and wiping his fingers carelessly on his trousers – none of the people he had to worry about would be looking too closely at him, after all, and no one would notice the faint residue of white wash under his nails or in the lines of his palms.

That accomplished, he headed back to the assembly area and rejoined his class, adopting a suitably sulky expression. A few of them gave him a passing glance, but nothing more than that.

Wolf was nowhere to be seen, and Eagle had evidently changed his trousers before the end of the 'activity'. He still looked a little white-faced, and he was standing rather awkwardly – it was equally telling that he was letting Snake do all the talking.

Fox was looking rather smug.

"…act like that in a real situation," Snake told them, voice quiet but no less intimidating for that, "And you _will_ get yourselves killed. Are we all clear on that?" A few people nodded, but most of Alex's classmates kept their eyes firmly trained on the ground. Snake sighed. "Fine. Right, as Wolf said, you'll be doing this again tomorrow, and working down until you can defend yourselves effectively without the weapons." He gave them all a disgusted look. "Go and get yourselves cleaned up." He told them, dismissively, and glanced at Alex. "Rider, you stay behind. You need to be briefed on what _you_ do in an attack."

There were a few scattered, derisive smiles, and one person even dared to whisper '_what, apart from hide like a little girl_?', but, though he ducked his head and gave as good an impression as he could manage of being ashamed and hurt, it rolled off Alex without hurting him. He'd shot Wolf in the face – nothing could touch him right now.

Not even the murderous look on Eagle's face.

Once the clearing was empty, Eagle lunged for him, as Alex had expected – hastily, he stepped backwards, and watched with no little relief as Fox restrained his team-mate.

"Look, Neal, I'm sure it was an accident." Snake said, soothingly, apparently continuing a previous line of argument.

"Accident?" Eagle howled, voice a couple of tones higher than usual. "The little bastard _aimed _for them!"

Fox handed his gibbering team-mate over to Snake, and headed over to Alex, clapping him on the shoulder with a grin. "So, how much is it that I owe you, Cub?" he asked with a grin. "About fifteen quid, right?"

"That's it, yeah." Alex nodded back, unable to hide his own wide grin.

"You _paid_ him?!" Eagle stared at his friend, betrayed.

"Yep." Fox grinned unrepentantly. "You'd better get your jewels checked over, Neal. If you and that cheating girlfriend of yours were ever planning on having kids…"

Wolf appeared behind them, face free from paint, adjusting a new, clean set of combats and giving Alex a glare which could strip paint all by itself. "If you were my height, Cub, I'd beat the shit out of you for that."

"There's a queue." Eagle growled, "Wait your turn."

Momentarily, Alex grinned. These weren't _real_ threats – they were _baby_ threats, not actually meant. They weren't going to act on him, they weren't going to hurt him, they were just… registering displeasure. It was almost affectionate, in its own twisted, fucked-up little way.

Wolf, of course, broke the moment by clipping Alex upside the head. "Don't you grin at me, sunshine." He scowled, and Alex nodded, abashed.

"Sorry."

"Yeah, whatever." Wolf dismissed the apology. "So, did you manage it?"

Snake nodded before Alex could reply. "He did." He confirmed. "But he was sneakiest with you and Eagle."

"Only way I had a hope in hell of winning was to trick you." Alex apologised tacitly for the underhanded method he'd used to get the drop on Wolf.

Wolf shrugged. "You're spec-ops." He said, casually. "That sort of shit's what you're trained to do." He shrugged. "And I guess we can't really punish you for doing what you're trained to do _and_ what we ordered you to do."

"We can't?" Eagle looked betrayed.

"Nope. But we _can_ give you two hours duty every night for the rest of the week for getting pain on your uniform when you didn't even take part in the practice." He nodded at Alex's daubed combats. Eagle looked vindicated. "Get some new ones from Supplies." He ordered, brusquely. "And report to Barrack 28 straight after evening meal, we're going through the videos of the exercise and identifying our mistakes."

* * *

Lunch was a rather subdued affair by the time Alex got there, sliding into a seat by Ben and trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.

It didn't work, but then, Alex hadn't really been expecting it too – he was far too notorious among his peers, in the worst possible way.

"So, what are you supposed to be doing in a fight, then?" Joe Radcliffe enquired, with just a faint hint of hostility in his words.

Alex shrugged. "Wolf just said to stay down and try not to get anyone killed. And the tall one," meaning Eagle, but no one noted Alex Rider for his intelligence, not anymore, "Said I shouldn't even try to fight, because I'd almost certainly do more harm than good."

"Took them a long time to say that, didn't it?" Tom spoke up meeting Alex's eyes squarely, his tone almost directly confrontational. Inwardly, Alex sighed, feeling the eyes of the whole of his class on him, gleefully waiting for his answer.

He met Tom's eyes and shrugged deliberately. "I got lost." He muttered, and looked down at the slop on his plate which was trying to pass itself off as cottage pie.

Somewhere, someone laughed unpleasantly. "God, I guess we really _don't_ want you trying to fight for us." He heard, and shrank a little more into himself. He knew exactly how good he was, but a constant stream of insults and belittlement would wear down even the most confident character.

"So, how did you get all the paint on you, then?" Charlotte asked, quietly, obviously trying to give him an 'out' – he shot her a grateful glance. He didn't know her, so it was doubly nice of her to try.

"I was helping to white-wash some parts of the infirmary." He said, calmly, if a little subdued. "It got – messy."

"Are you good at _anything_, Rider?" Will Hartford leant across to ask him, nastily.

Alex treated him to a glare he had learnt from Wolf, and Hartford actually flinched a little, but held his gaze. "I'll show you how good I am at kicking your face in if you don't _back off_." He said, fiercely, but Hartford just laughed.

"Oh, fighting talk from someone who's too much of a wuss to get involved in a paint-balling match." He grinned, and went back to his own slop.

Alex tried to feel satisfied that his cover-story was going off so well, but it was far from easy. He didn't want them to know about his double-life with MI6 – that would cause far too many complications – but he did sometimes wish that he could have kept his secret and the friendship of his classmates.

Apparently, he couldn't have both. But he knew which one he would have preferred.

* * *

The Welsh weather, always liable to change on sixpence, especially in March, had gone from cold but sunny to pouring with rain by the time lunch was over, so all outdoors activities had been cancelled, and Eagle was continuing his attempts at instil a grasp of basic strategy and tactics in Alex's class.

"The first thing to remember about strategy," he said, calmly, after briefly reviewing their last lesson "Is that no strategy ever survives the first contact with the enemy."

"So why bother with them?" one boy piped up, bravely.

Eagle simply nodded. During lunch, he had apparently managed to regain his composure – or else he was on some pretty heavy duty painkillers – and his voice was back to it's normal pitch, and his face had lost the unhealthily white tinge. "Good question. A strategy is essentially a basic plan of how you want things to go; the enemy is unlikely to fall neatly into line with what you want to happen. If they did, they wouldn't be your enemy in the first place. But a strategy allows you to coordinate your troops. It helps you give a little bit of order to something which can seem a lot like hell."

Charlotte put her hand up, looking just a little pale at her own daring. "Sir…?"

"Yes?"

"But if your tactics don't work-"

"There's a difference between tactics and strategy." He interrupted, his voice almost kind – apparently, he recognised that genuine fear was, in this case, tempered with a genuine wish to learn, and saw very little reason to increase the fear at the cost of the wish to learn. "But go on."

"O-Okay, so… if your _strategy_ doesn't work, why bother making it? Why not just – ensure good communication."

"Well, it depends on the situation. If you are, say, attacking a fixed position, you can factor in things like enemy fire and outer protections. You can't factor in things like people's guns jamming, or stronger outer protections than you had accounted for. Basically, with a strategy, you lay down a basic plan so there are some guidelines to the situation, and you have something to fall back on." He paused, looking them over to make sure everyone had got what he was trying to say before continuing. "We're going to try and teach you some basic strategies and drill you in them so you understand them, but we're going to concentrate on tactics, and hope that you aren't so thick you can't apply them to any given situation. Now, one of our most basic tactics is…"

Eagle was a surprisingly good teacher, if a little blunt in his method, and Alex at least found himself interested in this lesson as he hadn't been in the last, listening through what the man said, and trying to apply it to the practice situations they were given. Most of them were simple to the point of juvenile, and Alex marvelled silently that his classmates could find them in anyway difficult – but he kept that thought to himself.

Despite the simplicity of the 'problems', Alex definitely felt better versed in strategy and tactics by the end of the two-hour session. It had, he suspected, been deliberately drawn out for as long as possible, but when it became very obvious that the rain was going to continue sheeting down as it had ever since lunch, they cleared away the makeshift classroom – consisting of a blackboard and a rather rudimentary sand-table for the battle plans – and Wolf announced that they would spend some more time working on their martial arts.

"Rider, I hope it's not asking too much of you to brave a little rain and head back down to Barrack 11, is it?" Wolf asked, carelessly. "I'm sure someone will find you something to do to get you out of our hair."

Alex grumbled something under his breath, and caught Wolf's warning look out of the corner of his eye as he turned away.

* * *

At Barracks 11, he waited for maybe ten minutes, dripping wet after his run through the rain, until B-Unit arrived, presumably to help him with the same kind of 'training' as he had received the day before with D-Unit.

Jackal gave him a rather weak smile as he entered, and said, in his habitual half-murmur, "Apparently, you've done this before." Alex nodded, silently "So – you know what we're trying to do?" He asked, either looking to make absolutely sure, or carefully looking for a way out of a task he considered distasteful.

Hawk, Alex noted, didn't seem to have any such reservations, giving the boy a look which made a shiver pass down his spine.

"Yeah." He forced himself to say, nodding once again. "Yeah, I understand. Let's… let's just get on with it, OK?" he swallowed against the rising fear and adrenaline, and tried to avoid Hawk's hard gaze.

The moment the fight began, Alex could tell that this was different to the one he had had yesterday with D-Unit. B-Unit were good, of course they were, but the unthinking team-work and cohesion that D-Unit had displayed was stilted here, the smooth actions of the other units was jerky in this one – they had to make eye-contact and hand-signals. All things which Alex could easily read.

What they lacked in teamwork, though, they made up for with individual skill. None of them was as good as Viper – who, Alex could tell, had been holding back when he fought him – they were all excellent. Alex might have been a match for one of them, but he was struggling badly against four. Cobra in particular was very good, quick and effortless.

Alex managed to block a number of their punches, but their lack of teamwork, although it worked to his advantage in some cases, also meant that the attacks were coming quicker than they should have been, and were far less coordinated. He couldn't keep up with them, especially when he was stiff and tired from yesterday's fight and this morning's exertions.

It was Bear who got in the lucky blow, a knife-hand strike to the neck. Alex was lucky that the man had pulled the blow when he saw that it was going to connect, and Alex was just stunned rather than knocked out or done any serious damage. All the same, he dropped to his knees like a stone.

While no one was looking, Hawk sneaked a kick in to his thigh, and Alex had to put on a hand to catch himself as his muscle went numb with the pain. "Strange." The man sneered, an otherwise attractive face marred by the active dislike Alex could see written large across his features, "Viper said you'd be a challenge, but you're _pathetic_."

Jackal gave him a sharp look. "If you could have lasted against a fully trained SAS team for half that time at fourteen, Hawk, feel free to repeat that." He rapped out, abandoning his usually soft tone for one of harsh reprimand. "If not, shut the hell up."

Hawk gave his team leader an ugly look. "For heaven's sake, why the hell is everyone bending over backwards for this kid?" he demanded, angrily. "He's nothing more than a-"

"That's _enough_, Hawk!" Bear said, sharply. "Leave it."

"Jesus, Charlie, you of all people should know-" he began, his voice almost pleading, eyes wide and dark as they looked at his team-mate. Alex got the impression Hawk wasn't seeing the same things as everyone else in the room as he repeated, his voice softer and horrified, "_Jesus_, Charlie…"

Bear visibly flinched. "It's OK. Pete, it's OK, I promise it's OK." He looked at Jackal, who nodded infinitesimally. "C'mon, man, let's get you out of here, alright? Get you – a cup of tea, or something." He nodded briefly to Alex, who found himself to frozen to return it, still knelt on the floor watching the scene pan out in front of him.

Jackal helped him up once Hawk and Bear had disappeared. "Sorry about that." He said, looking a little ruffled himself for someone who was usually so poised. "It's – nothing. Nothing. Sorry you had to see it."

It was difficult to be reassured by that.

* * *

It was even more difficult to be reassured, however, later that night. As always, he left the mess hall later than his classmates; they never minded leaving him there, and it meant they wouldn't see the unusual places his 'punishment duty' took him to.

Tonight, however, Hawk had obviously timed Alex's leaving with his own, and he cornered him in the dark outside the hall.

For a second, Alex almost thought the man was about to apologise for the incident earlier during his 'training session', but then he caught the glint in the man's eyes, and knew that apologising was the last thing Hawk had in mind.

"Don't think I don't see through you." he hissed at Alex, shoving him into one of the shadows cast by the walls. "You might have everyone else fooled, but I can see right through you."

Alex stared at him, totally nonplussed "…I'm sorry?" he said, finally.

Hawk grinned savagely. "That crap might work on everybody else, but I'm not going to fall for it. You hear me, '_Cub_'? I _know_ people like you."

"I haven't got a clue what the hell you're talking about!" Alex defended himself, irritated.

Hawk's only reaction was to shove him against the wall, knocking the wind out of him. All he could do was stare, breathless, as the man loomed over him, strangely threatening with the weird shadows cast by the floodlights playing over his face. "I'm watching you." he hissed, right in Alex's face. "Remember that."

Alex watched as the man left him there. It might have been a line from a bad cop-show, but in real life it was chilling nonetheless.

* * *

And there it is. Did you like? Do tell.

-amitai xxx


	9. Chapter 9

Hallo, people! And how is everybody today?

Personally, I feel _dire,_ myself. See, I'm sure you've all forgotten the A-Levels I've been moaning on about for the last - oh, year or so - because you all have busy and exciting lives. But, er... yeah. The A-Level results come out on Thursday, and I'm terrified I haven't got the grades I need to apply to read English. Which is scary. Because I've known I wanted to read English at uni since I was about thirteen, and if I couldn't... it would suck. I mean, I'd retake, but... still. It'd still suck.

So, good luck to anyone getting results on Thursday - the AS-Level results come then. If you're lucky, I might update ILP to moan at you all about how crap my results were. (prays very, very hard)

More cheerful things - I don't think I mentioned before that the (blessedly finished! (cheers)) internship was on Liverpool Street, did I? Yes! Ladies and Gentlemen, I was practically working in the Royal and General Bank.

...I went looking for it, and then realised that it was probably fictional, and I looked like an idiot. We-ll... even more of an idiot than just being the girl at Desk Number 24 who didn't know what she was doing.

So, I think this is pretty impressive, no? So, I didn't get the requisite 297 reviews to update ILP in a week, but then, I didn't expect to. But an update of HIOP in less than a month? Oh, be still my beating heart. :D Enjoy, dear readers! And thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - I'm afraid there were too many reviews to answer each individual one, but each one has a special place in my heart. Thank you!

DISCLAIMER: I hate disclaimers, and I'm taking a stand. I own Alex Rider. He is my bitch.

So there.

* * *

Alex was still thinking over what happened outside the mess hall when he reached K-Unit's barracks, in the part of the camp where the 'real' soldiers stayed, and gave a distracted answer at best to Wolf's grunt of greeting. Luckily, since none of K-Unit were huge on social graces themselves, Alex's reticence went mostly unnoticed.

Eagle was lounging on his bed, reading some trashy paperback, while Fox and Snake seemed to be playing some kind of card-game – again. At least this time, it was poker rather than Go Fish, or something equally inane, but Fox was cheating outrageously, and Snake didn't seem to notice. Alex remembered the lessons he'd taken from Ian on how to play cards, and managed a half-smile. Maybe at some point he could get Fox – or, better, Eagle – to play against him?

Wolf was apparently engrossed in a treatise on heat tactics, and it took a few minutes for him to put it to one side and start on the purpose of their 'meeting'. Alex hovered awkwardly by the door, watching the scene, and wondered, vaguely, why he didn't feel as out-of-place here as he did with his classmates.

"…SAS have a code." Snake was telling Fox, sternly, as Fox grumpily handed his cards – including the ace he had stashed up one sleeve – over to the other man. "You have to be able to trust the man standing next to you, and how can I trust you if I know you cheat at cards."

Fox gave him a rather sullen glare. "You got that line out of _Band of Brothers_." He said, sulkily. "And we're not in a James Bond film; me trying to be creative during a friendly game of cards has got nothing to us fighting together. You know how far you can trust me."

"'Trying to be creative'!" Snake exclaimed, right as Eagle spoke up.

"Yeah, we trust you. About as far as the nearest pub." He quipped, thumbing over a page and not even bothering to look up at his team-mates as he spoke. "Anyway, it's not so much that he _cheats_, as how outrageously badly. It worries me that he still keeps trying, you know? The fact that he's thick enough to keep on and on at it is what bothers me about having to fight with him."

Fox threw something at him, which Eagle caught with a lazy grin. "Dick."

"It's alright. We love you even though you're stupid." Eagle told him, sweetly.

"Says the man reading a Jackie Collins novel!" Fox sniped back, absently, picking up his newly-dealt hand of cards.

"Jack Higgins, you fuckwit. God, I thought you could at least _read_…"

"Would you lot shut up?" Wolf asked, acidly, and Alex smothered a grin. He'd been waiting for that patented 'Wolf' charm.

Eagle hushed his team-mates exaggeratedly. "Our Lord and Master has spoken." He grinned, and Wolf glanced over at him with a low-level glare.

"Don't make me come over there…" he threatened, and Eagle actually chuckled.

"Would I do such a thing?" Eagle replied, carelessly, returning to his book.

"Y'know, I wonder about you sometimes." Wolf shook his head, and finally laid his treaty down, standing up with a stretch. "It's just as well it was you Cub shot in the balls – it's not like you were using them anyway."

"I object to that." Eagle frowned, looking at Alex. "You could have done some serious damage, Cub."

"Our guns were altered so they weren't as powerful, and I made sure that I was over five metres away." Alex pointed out, quietly. "It was painful, sure, but I knew it wasn't going to do any damage."

Eagle sighed. "Fine. I reserve rights to hold a grudge, though."

Alex, still distracted by the business with Hawk earlier, simply nodded.

Wolf cleared his throat, meaningfully, and Fox and Snake chucked in their cards – Fox moaning that he was 'just about to win that one'. The smug look on Snake's face suggested that that would be a first if it were true.

"Cub, just perch on anyone's bed." Wolf ordered, a little awkwardly. "But if you get mud on mine, death will start to look like a good option, are we clear?" Alex nodded again, and perched right on the edge of the bed he assumed was Fox's. Eagle grinned.

"Yeah. Good call." He nodded, and Alex ignored him.

"Right. We couldn't get hold of any equipment to use for the tapes, so we're going to have to go through it by memory. Anyone, major mistakes?"

"Underestimating Cub." Fox said, promptly, sneaking a grin at Eagle, who gave him a disdainful look, and ignored him almost as successfully as Alex had ignored _him_.

"Yes." Wolf nodded. "Not making sure your opponent is disarmed before attempting to help injured children would be mine."

"It's a little bit different if your opponent _is_ an injured child, though, isn't it?" Snake asked, softly. "I mean, everyone but a monster would stop if they were faced with a wounded kid, surely?"

Alex quirked a wry grin at that, until he realised that they were actually looking at him for an answer. He fumbled for a moment, before shrugging. "I don't know. I guess I just… come up against a lot of monsters." He said, slowly. "I mean… they've done the injuring most of the time, you know? It doesn't bother them." He frowned. "But… thinking about it… if an enemy knows you're going to let your guard down around women and children, surely they'll just use them to make sure you're off-balance?"

Snake frowned right back at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I've played the 'injured teenager' card a couple of times." Alex said, rather awkwardly. "And it's let me get people on their soft side so I can, um… deal with them. And I've killed people when I've been injured, because they didn't get their brains round it quick enough. I'd just – prefer it if you lot didn't kick it because you let your better emotions get in the way of your better judgement."

There was a moment's silence before Wolf nodded, and cleared his throat. "Right, OK. Moving on. What other issues did we notice in general?"

"The rest of the brats refuse to take it seriously?" Eagle suggested, sounding severely pissed off. "And we can't even hold up the only one of them who _does_ take it seriously as an example." He nodded at Cub. "Because they all think he's useless."

Fox glanced at Alex. "They're not giving you a hard time over that, are they, Cub?"

For a moment, Alex toyed with the idea of telling the truth, saying that, yes, his classmates were giving him a hard time… but K-Unit almost certainly already knew that, and there was nothing they could do about it anyway. It played right into their hands for Alex to have a slightly 'estranged' relationship with his classmates – it allowed for situations like this one to take place with the minimum number of questions. Finally, he settled for a compromise. "Nothing I can't deal with." He said, firmly, and though Fox looked a little uncomfortable, he let it drop.

What else could he do, after all?

"How are we going to make them take it seriously, then?" Eagle asked, his own face surprisingly serious.

"Did you go full-out against them this time?" Alex asked.

"That wasn't the point of the exercise." Wolf replied, slowly.

"Well, they don't seem to have got the point of the exercise." Alex pointed out. "So if you go full-out – show them just how easy it is for you to 'kill them off' in the space of a few minutes – they might get that this is real?" he shrugged. "It's just a suggestion, and it might not work… but I think they need to be frightened into it, you know?"

Snake nodded. "He's right. It's basic human psychology."

"Well, we'll try that this time." Wolf turned to Alex. "Cub, what weapons do you carry normally?"

Alex stared. "Um – none." He said, slowly.

"What, not even a knife?" Wolf asked, surprised.

"It's been a struggle to get Brooklands to keep me, what with all my unscheduled absences." Alex pointed out, quietly. "The last thing I want to do is hand them an excuse to expel me."

Wolf frowned. "Well, that makes things more difficult." He paused for a moment. "So – in your combat lessons, have you been taught how to get a weapon off your opponent?"

Alex thought of the beating he'd taken from D-Unit, and the fractured attacks from B-Unit, and frowned himself. When, exactly, did K-Unit think he had the _chance_ to learn how to get a weapon off his opponents when they were busy teaching him how to hold his own against a group? "Not as yet, no." he said, and Wolf ignored the undercurrent of sarcasm.

"I'll mention it to D-Unit. They're the ones who've been teaching you, right?"

"I had B-Unit today." Alex wondered at the glance Eagle and Fox exchanged. Briefly, he considered mentioning Hawk to them, trying to work out what was going on with the guy – then decided not to. Nothing had happened yet, and he'd wait until he had something a little more concrete than 'he said nasty things to me'.

"Right. Well, we'll recommend that D-Unit teach you that." Wolf said, ignoring the allusion to B-Unit. "Right, any other problems we should be dealing with?"

* * *

While Alex was with K-Unit up at Barracks 28, the rest of his classmates were crammed into the boys' barracks – as they normally were of an evening. Due to their age, they didn't have something scheduled for every minute of every day, and they were left to themselves of an evening. Couples would generally sneak off for half an hour here and there, but for the most part, they all congregated in one of the two barracks set aside for them.

Tonight, the overruling topic was Alex Rider.

Joe had mentioned, briefly, that there was 'something strange about him', and Will Hartford had take it up with a derisive,

"Yeah, he's _strange_. He's touched in the fucking head, that's what's wrong with him."

"Where does he disappear off to?" Someone asked, the typical question whenever Alex Rider was brought up by his classmates – and, in a small London grammar school, topics of gossip were relatively thin on the ground. None of the 'accepted' rumours about Alex's disappearances were wholly satisfactory, and it was always a good subject to light on if conversation seemed to be wearing thin.

All the major schools of thought on this had something to say. "Well, he's a druggy, isn't he?" Daniel Leitch said, dismissively. "He's either in and out of rehab, or he's trying to feed the habit."

"Don't be thick, we'd notice if he was shooting up at school." Lizzie Wilson said, disdainfully. "If he's gone so often 'feeding his habit', he'd be hitting up every couple of hours. Anyway, I heard that it was Rider who dealt with Skoda and his lot. He was friends with Colin, wasn't he?"

The mention of Colin – who'd left Brooklands in favour of a school for damaged kids after too much 'soft' cannabis had left him with acute bipolar disorder – caused a few moments of silence, but not for long.

"How could _Alex Rider_ deal with Skoda?" Will Hartford almost sneered it. "He can't even go _paintballing_, for Christ's sake. I always thought that he was probably involved in some kind of gang, but he wouldn't be much use to a gang, would he?"

Tom, sat on his bed towards the edge of the barracks, was engaged in a private battle of his own. He'd never been involved in conversations like these before, not without trying to dispel all the curiosity with some sort of bland excuse for Alex's absences – "Oh, he was really close to his uncle. He's seeing this… doctor, for, er… depression, after Ian died. Would you want to have to tell everyone that?" – but it was different now.

He'd been able to deal with knowing that Alex was a spy, in abstract, and he'd never really dealt with what that must mean about his friend. And it had been easy to accept the friendly rivalry between him and Alex, before now. Football teams, Sports Day… that sort of thing had been easy. They'd been equals.

But here… Alex outclassed him by so much, it was almost laughable. Alex could do that hellish 'obstacle course' in under twenty minutes. Alex was a black belt in a martial art. Alex was a _spy._ And though Tom knew the toll it took on his friend, and although he understood that Alex wasn't trying to show him up in the slightest, it was still difficult not to feel a little jealous and resentful.

Of course, feeling that way made him feel petty and horrible. Either way, he couldn't seem to win. He'd known he wasn't as clever as Alex since they were children, but now Alex also outclassed him in sport, the only thing that had ever really mattered to him, and though he half-hated himself for it, he couldn't help but feel cheated.

So when Will Hartford finally turned to him – Alex's closest friend – for an answer, Tom told the truth about Alex for the first time, ever.

"He's not into drugs." He said, flatly. "And he's not in a gang. He… his uncle worked for the government. Now that he's dead, they're using Alex instead."

There was a moment of horrible, strained silence, before everyone was speaking at once.

"Don't be so bloody stupid!"

"What the hell do you mean, he's working for the government? What _part_ of the government?!"

"So, he's like, a spy, or something?"

"Why on earth would the government use a weakling like him?" Hartford shouted, after a minute or two.

Tom shrugged, already wishing he hadn't said anything. "He's not a weakling." He said, rather bitterly. "You watch him, closely. He's not pathetic at all." He stood up. "I'm going for a walk."

Hartford grabbed his shoulder as he passed, and tried to shove him back down. "You can't say something like that and then leave us. We want _details_!" he was grinning. "That's the best joke I've heard in ages. Rider, a spy? Go on, how d'you back that one up, then?"

Not everyone looked quite as disbelieving or amused as Hartford did, though, and Tom felt a little bit sick.

Drawing on the lessons they'd been having – he might not have been as good as Alex, but he was still paying attention, _and_ he was good at sports and all the rest of it – he broke the grip Hartford had on his shoulder and shoved him away before making good his escape. "I'm going for a walk." He repeated, sullenly, and slipped out, leaving an uproar behind him.

"He can't _really_ be a spy." Charlotte spoke up, timidly. "I mean, he's… we all _know _him, we've known him for years. Alex isn't a _spy_."

Joe gave her a scornful look. "We don't know shit about him any more." He pointed out, flatly. "Ever since the beginning of this year, he's been weird."

"But a _spy_?" Ben said, slowly. "I mean, he was good at sport, but there's got to be more to it than that, right?"

A couple of the others couldn't help but agree with this. "Even if he's _not_ as bad as he's been pretending to be," Daniel said, "There're loads of reasons that he could be pretending. Like, not wanting to look good when he's pretended to be ill all those times."

Hartford shrugged. "I don't think he's a spy for one minute." He said, firmly. "But there's no harm in checking, right? Finding out whether it's true. If it is, there must be signs, and all the rest of it, mustn't there?"

Ben frowned. "If he's a spy – a _decent_ spy, which he must be to have lived so long, right? – there might not be any signs."

Hartford glared at him. "What would you know about it?"

"About as much as you, probably." Ben replied, sharply.

"Yeah, well. Spying isn't always about life-threatening situations and all those James Bond situations. He's probably been doing the easy stuff, hasn't he?" Hartford shrugged. "If we watch him, we'll be able to see his 'tells'."

Inevitably they divided into two groups over the situation, those who thought Alex couldn't possibly be a spy, and those who felt that it explained the situation better than any explanation they'd got before. In the end, though, they managed to agree not to mention anything to Alex – there was no reason to get his suspicions up, after all.

* * *

Tom, outside on his own, felt awful. He hadn't gone any further than the wooden porch outside the barracks, and he could hear the rest of his class inside, giggling and talking over what he had just told them.

More than anything, he wished he had kept his mouth shut. How could he have told such a dangerous secret like that? He could only hope that no one believed him… The consequences could be horrific.

Guilt was an almost-physical lump in his chest, and he was dreading finding out Alex's reaction. What if the other boy refused to forgive him? What if Alex hated him? Tom would understand perfectly if he did. Alex had told him about MI6 in confidence, when he was at his lowest moment, and Tom had gone and blurted it out to the rest of their class because he was _jealous_.

The thought was sickening.

He had to tell Alex, but it was, at the same time, the last thing he wanted to do. He'd been friends with Alex for years now, what if he'd ruined it? Especially after the way he'd been acting for the last couple of days.

Curled up against the wooden wall of the barracks, Tom passed the most miserable hour of his life.

* * *

By the time Alex came back, he'd managed to work himself into a real state about the entire thing. Alex gave him a wary look as he stepped onto the boards outside the barracks, but met his friend's eyes squarely enough, waiting by the edge for Tom to speak first.

"Alex…" He said, awkwardly, and then paused, uncertain how to go on. Really, he just wanted to blurt the whole thing out and get it over with, but being ashamed of it made it more difficult than he'd expected.

"What?" Alex asked, after Tom had dithered for nearly a minute. Tom shrugged, uncomfortably, and Alex sighed. "Look, Tom… I'm really sorry for whatever it is I've done over the last few days. But I don't know what it is, you know? And I'm sorry for it, but unless you tell me what it is, I can't do anything about-"

"No, you didn't do anything!" Tom said, wretchedly. "I was just – I was being stupid. And now I've been _really_ stupid, and I… I've…"

Alex frowned. "What've you done?"

"I – told them." He choked out, finally. "I didn't mean- I mean, I didn't want to… to put you in danger, or anything, but…" he paused, and then said, in a very low voice, "I was jealous of you."

For a long, horrible moment, Alex just stared at him. Finally, he said, slowly, "You were jealous? Of _me_?"

Tom couldn't meet his eyes. "I know I shouldn't be." He all but whispered it. "And I know… I know it's crap for you, everything that they make you do, it's just…" He had to swallow, biting back tears. He already felt lower than he'd ever felt in his life, the last thing he wanted to do was act like a little kid and cry in front of his best friend.

"It's just what?" Alex asked, his own voice a little hard. "Because I can't think of any reason you could _possibly_ be jealous of me."

"You've always been cleverer 'n me." Tom said, quietly. "But that was OK, 'cos it didn't matter, you know? We were still friends, and I was just as good as you at sports and all the rest of it. All the stuff we did together – football and the rest of it – you weren't any better than me, so it was easy to pretend you weren't cleverer. But… here… you're… ten times as good as me. And I guess…" he broke off, twisting his fingers together, his face agonised. "I wasn't thinking." He said, finally. "I was just jealous, and I wanted to – to get back at you, I guess." When he said it like that, he felt like the worst kind of person. "It was stupid of me, and now I've ruined everything. And I'm sorry." He ended, rather pathetically.

Alex didn't say anything for a few moments, before he finally sighed. "It's… it's OK." He said, slowly. "I get it. Anyway, chances are no one'll believe you anyway." He looked away. "Thanks for telling me."

"I shouldn't have said anything in the first place." Tom said, miserably.

"No." Alex agreed, and shrugged. "But it was a lot to ask you to keep it a secret, you know? It wasn't fair of me."

"You manage it!" Tom pointed out.

"Yeah, but it's my life, isn't it? I'm the one who has to live with the consequences if I _do_ tell someone."

That only made him feel worse about the whole thing. "What will happen?" He asked, very quietly.

"Nothing, if my act's good enough." Alex risked a small smile, which Tom could only half return.

"If it were me, I think I'd want them to know." Tom said, softly. "I mean, I'd… they all think you're rubbish, and some kind of – of drug addict. I'd want them to know all I'd done – that I was really ten times as good as all of them."

"Would you?" Alex asked, quietly. "And have all of them staring at you, all day, like you were some kind of performing animal?" he sighed again, and almost seemed to deflate. "I don't want that." He confided, and Tom instantly felt his self-esteem shrink right down to rock bottom. "I just… every friend I have ends up – turning away because of this bloody spy thing." He said, and Tom, who'd thought he couldn't feel any lower, wished he could just shrivel up. "I don't…I never wanted that."

Nervously, Tom bit his lip. "I know I've really screwed things up." He said, in a tiny, nervous voice. "But… I'd like to… I'll try harder this time. I won't be jealous, and I'll tell them I was lying – whatever you like. I promise. I won't be so stupid."

"It's OK." Alex tried a smile, but Tom didn't quite believe it. "Seriously, I don't blame you."

"Maybe not." Tom straightened his spine. He'd screwed things up, and he might not have been some kind of super-spy like Alex, but the least he could do was try and set them right. "But _I _do, and I'm gonna do everything I can to sort things out."

Alex's smile was a little more real this time. "I think that's probably braver than I am, then."

"You've saved the world." Tom said, shyly, and Alex actually laughed.

"Yeah, but I've never stood up to our class. Have you met that Lizzie girl? Scares the shit out of me."

Tom managed a smile back. He wouldn't have wanted to forgive himself if he'd been in Alex's place, but Alex really _was_ braver than he was, and maybe – just maybe – things would turn out alright.

* * *

And there it is. That should have answered all the 'Tom' related questions - expect answers to the Hawk Situation (and some speeding up of time, otherwise they'll be at this bloody camp forever, and I've got things planned for when they leave!) next chapter.

Did everyone enjoy it? Do please tell.

Good luck to everyone receiving exam results! And cross your fingers for me on Thursday if you've got a free hand... (grin)

-amitai


	10. Chapter 10

Well, WOW, it's been a long time since I've updated this 'un! I just hope it's worth the wait. ^_^

So, the Author's Note of Doom is, of course, back with the next chapter; and did anyone watch 'Merlin' on BBC, when it was on? LOVE it. (grin) Arthur and Merlin - their love is so canon. That is, I'm ashamed to say, partly the reason I've been so absent recently - the Merlin fandom has been eating my mind. It's even made me write mpreg over on lj...

Anyway, apart from that, Real Life has been terribly irritating recently, always getting in the way of much more rewarding fanfiction; between looking for a job, getting a job, working, university applications, preparing for Christmas, having Christmas, writing thank-you letters... I don't know whether I'm coming or going! But I should be getting back on track soon, and chapters for the other three or four stories I'm concentrating on at the momet ('In Loco Parentis', 'An Earthly Child', 'A Civil Partnership' and this one) are being written. I can't promise they'll be up any time soon, but they WILL be up soon.

On a slightly more serious note, thank you to everyone who PM'd me about the message on my profile page; things have been MUCH better recently, and your support really means a great deal to me. Now things have calmed down a bit in my life, I'll be replying to them soon - but, though all of them were lovely and touching, I have to mention **Amari Bell's** here, because it was just such a lovely Christmas present. (hugs you all) The fandom's got issues, but I, personally, feel much better able to deal with them now with all your support! Thank you! ^_^

Dedicated, as always, to **Von**, who listened, corrected and challenged me to make it "better, you fool!" (grin) and to **xaritomene**, who's just - well. Awesome, even if I DID steal her name over on lj. Sorry, love!

(DOCTOR WHO SPOILER!!! OMG new doctor! Good, bad, or ugly? ^_^ I mean, we can't know until the poor boy actually does an episode, but - reactions?)

DISCLAIMER: I own Alex Rider. I also fly to work on a large purple carrot and get my pet dragon to do my washing up for me. (nods)

Now that's done - ONWARDS!

* * *

Last chapter:

"It's OK." Alex tried a smile, but Tom didn't quite believe it. "Seriously, I don't blame you."

"Maybe not." Tom straightened his spine. He'd screwed things up, and he might not have been some kind of super-spy like Alex, but the least he could do was try and set them right. "But I do, and I'm gonna do everything I can to sort things out."

Alex's smile was a little more real this time. "I think that's probably braver than I am, then."

"You've saved the world." Tom said, shyly, and Alex actually laughed.

"Yeah, but I've never stood up to our class. Have you met that Lizzie girl? Scares the shit out of me."

Tom managed a smile back. He wouldn't have wanted to forgive himself if he'd been in Alex's place, but Alex really was braver than he was, and maybe – just maybe – things would turn out alright.

* * *

As he and Tom entered the barracks again, Alex ignored the looks and the giggles from his classmates with the ease of long-born practice – heading to his own bed, he pulled out one of the books he was supposed to have read for English, and tried to pretend he couldn't hear the whispers from over the other side of the room. Honestly, how subtle did they really think they were being at the moment? Even without Tom's warning, Alex would still have known that something was up.

"So, Alex, save the world recently?" Joe asked, fighting back a grin.

Alex looked up from his book, apparently completely taken aback. "What? Are you on something?" he asked. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, according to Harris, you work for 'the government'." Joe said, complete with air-quotes, letting his grin show and glancing at Hartford as he did so.

"Work for the government?!" Alex gave Tom a surprised look. "Yeah, good one." He managed to grin, carelessly. "Almost as good as me being on drugs."

"So where the hell _do_ you go, then?" Hartford challenged.

"I have a weak immune system." He said, heavily, as he always did, feeling all of his classmates staring at him. As he finished speaking, they all started talking at once, disbelief coming from all sides. On the edges of the crowd, Ben and Charlotte exchanged a brief look; they didn't know each other particularly well, but they seemed to be the only ones who realised that if Alex really _was_ a spy, it was too important to risk the entire school finding out.

Alex listened to them for a few minutes, before shaking his head. "Look, it's some kind of psychological thing, OK?" he said, hoping he had just the right mix of frustration and resignation in his voice. "I don't understand it, it was something about a physical reaction to my uncle's death. Please, just – leave me alone, OK?"

He turned away from them, ignoring them determinedly, pulling his boots off and climbing under the blankets without bothering to change. His mind was going too fast to concentrate properly on what he was still trying to read; he would read through an entire page, and then realise he had no idea what it had been about. Trying to work out how he was supposed to deal with this new development battled with a feeling of betrayal, and Alex felt old and tired by the time the girls all left about half an hour later. They were still giggling and whispering, a couple of them glancing at Alex as they passed his bed, and the looks and whispers didn't stop when they'd gone. It was a relief when the lights were finally turned out, though Alex couldn't seem to stop _thinking_, and he slept badly.

* * *

He yawned his way down to the shooting range the next morning, aching with tiredness. His mobility wasn't helped much by the bruises he'd picked up over the last couple of days during his combat training, and over all, he felt stiff, tired and more than a little bit miserable. But he, better than any of his classmates, understood that things couldn't be abandoned when he didn't quite feel like it, and he made himself trudge down to the shooting range at six o'clock as usual.

For all his virtuous sentiments, he was still relieved to find that it wasn't B–Unit there shooting with him. F-Unit weren't a group he knew particularly well, but they were civil enough, and he got in a good session, perfecting his aim with a small fire-arm, and moving up to some heavier work. He didn't think he could have dealt with B-Unit and all the confusion they brought with them just at the moment.

As usual, Eagle came to meet him, and spent a few minutes being harangued by the range sergeant – apparently, K-Unit hadn't been putting enough dedication into their own practice. It was amusing to watch Eagle, easily over six foot, reduced to a shame-faced child by a man who was shorter than him by a good six inches.

The walk back was silent and awkward for the first few minutes, until they both spoke up at once.

"I'm sorry, about the paintballing thing-"

"If you've noticed anything – _off_ – about B-Unit-"

Alex paused, and grinned, awkwardly. "You go. I wasn't saying anything important."

"Sounded like an apology to me." Eagle offered him an equally awkward grin in return. "You spend enough time around Wolf, apologies become very important. Novelty value."

Alex shrugged. "I was just saying – it was a bit stupid, you know?"

"You're fourteen." Eagle said, shrugging it off easily. "You're allowed to act a bit stupid. God knows your classmates do. Anyway, what's that phrase? No harm, no foul. It's fine, forget it."

They walked in silence for a few paces more, before Alex got the courage up to say, "You were saying? About B-Unit?"

"What? Oh, yeah. I was just… if you've noticed anything off about them…?" he looked sideways at Alex, who nodded slowly.

"Yeah. Mostly Hawk, though." He considered telling Eagle the extent of Hawk's vendetta against him, but dismissed it, just as he had last night. Not only would it sound pretty stupid to complain about the man being a bit nasty to him, he still didn't really know what he'd been talking about it, and in Alex's experience, it was best to be able to present as much evidence as possible, or risk being dismissed out of hand.

Eagle nodded. "Thought so. Look, Cub, it's – really not up to me to say anything much, but – he's a good guy most of the time. Our units, we worked together out in Afghanistan, long story, but – I know him pretty well. He's just… going through a lot of shit at the moment. Don't take it too seriously if he, er… goes off at you. We've all had it at least once."

Alex considered this, glad that he hadn't blurted out the whole thing to Eagle, and settled for a short answer. "Sure." He said, calmly. "I'll… remember that."

They were nearly at the crest of the hill, and Alex stopped walking, turning to Eagle and saying, quietly, "Look, um… you'd better not, er…"

"Spit it out, Cub!"

"Sorry. My class, they…" he broke off, trying to think of some way not to incriminate Tom too badly – the fact that the other boy had betrayed him to such an extent was still a sore spot with him, and was likely to be one for a while yet, but he had absolutely no doubt that an SAS retaliation would be long, painful and out-of-proportion. He didn't want to expose Tom to that. "A couple of people knew the truth about – me and MI6. And the rest of my class managed to get it out of them." Eagle stared. "I don't think they really believe it!" he hastened to assure him. "But they're gonna be watching me pretty carefully, and it really wouldn't be a good idea for them to see me with you, y'know? They've already asked a couple of times where I go in the morning."

Eagle nodded. "See your point. D'you need me to tell Wolf about it?"

"It'd be a good idea. Tell him," he paused, trying to think, then shrugged. "Tell him I'll probably be especially useless today." He said, simply, and Eagle grinned.

"Will do."

* * *

Sure enough, Alex saw the door to his barracks close hurriedly as he reached the top of the hill which brought him into view. He shook his head, with a slightly sad smile. His classmates were many things, but, like most teenagers, they weren't going to be winning any subtlety prizes any time soon.

When he got in, all but a couple were up and dressing, and he met Tom's eyes squarely. His friend was still apologising at the drop of a hat, and his expression at the moment was a curious mix of warning and apologetic.

"Where was it this time?" Hartford asked, his tone both gleeful and malicious. "Where'd you walk to today?"

"Firing range." Alex said, simply – a partial truth was the best lie, after all. "The range sergeant threatened to use me as the target if he caught me round there again."

Ben actually cracked a grin at that. "Sounds like the sort of thing they'd say." He said, quietly. "D'you think you have to have politeness surgically removed when you join the SAS, or have we just been meeting the wrong people?"

Alex smiled. "I dunno. I've done something to get on their bad side, anyway."

"You've been a pathetic waste of space." Hartford said, sourly; Alex simply shrugged and turned away. There was no point disputing it, not when that was exactly what he wanted them to believe.

After a few moments, he paused, remembering something which had been nagging at him for a couple of days. "Does anyone know what happened to that history teacher of ours – the one who got shot, you know?

There was a momentary pause, before Joe spoke up again, his voice low. "He's still in hospital, I think. I mean, he was shot pretty badly, wasn't he?"

"You can get shot well?" Tom commented in a low voice, glancing at Alex for a reaction to the joke. Alex obligingly smiled, faintly, while Joe frowned at the smaller boy.

"I mean, he was shot in the chest, you know? Last time I spoke to my mum," They were allowed to ring home once a day using the 'public' phones by the mess hall, "She said they've asked old Mr. Nailor back, they're not expecting Mr. Hanley to come back to work. I don't know whether that means they don't think he's going to live, or whether it's just going to take ages for him to get back on his feet."

Alex, who knew exactly why Mr. Hanley wasn't going to be coming back to teach, didn't get any useful information out of that at all. "But she doesn't know whether he's doing OK, or anything?"

The look Joe favoured him with was frankly dismissive. "Of course she doesn't. What do you think she does, visits him in the hospital? Don't be soft."

* * *

They ran the assault course again that morning, as usual, though, in addition to his standard uselessness, Alex managed to slip up in the mud and bring Charlotte down with him. He felt bad about drenching her in mud, and apologised profusely, but she shrugged it off with a curious little smile which didn't reassure him as much as it might otherwise have done.

Things were a lot more pleasant now that Tom was talking to him again, but their relationship was far from back to normal. For a start, Alex knew a fair bit about betrayal now, and the fact that it had come from an place he had never expected had shocked him; there was a difference between forgiving something and forgetting it, and right now he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to trust Tom properly again. Things had changed.

In addition to that, Tom was clearly trying to make up for it, but had gone from cold to effusive in under a day – it was difficult to adjust that fast. Not to mention, their classmates had noticed and were beginning to be curious about the reasons for the change; Alex made a mental note to ask his friend to tone it down a bit. His classmates weren't subtle, but they weren't idiots either, and he didn't want anyone to connect what Tom had said last night with his sudden turnabout as regarded his relationship with Alex.

Wolf gave him a look of withering scorn when all his classmates had crossed the obstacle course, and, after commenting on the class's performance in general – "You're a _little_ better now that you've got the point of the exercise, but since you were shite before, that's really not saying much." – he turned to Alex.

"Tell me, Rider." He said, scathingly. "Have you always been this thick, or did you take night classes?" Alex looked down, flushing red through the mud. "I asked you a question!"

Hartford and his lot grinned, as Alex muttered something indistinct about not knowing.

"That was a stellar performance out there." Wolf told him, harshly. "Your group, and group two, stay behind, you're going over again. And if you can't get the hang of it this time, Rider, you'll be staying here _all day_ on your own until you get the damned thing down, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." He muttered, still without looking up.

"Look at me when you talk to me!" Wolf snapped, and, reluctantly, Alex brought his head up and met Wolf's eyes. "It's bad enough that you're a waste of space," the man said, firmly, "Without you bringing your team down with you." he looked at Charlotte. "You – go and get some clean combats. You can at least manage to get over respectably well, when this idiot isn't tripping you up."

Bright red, Charlotte scurried off towards the main camp.

"The rest of you," Eagle stepped forward as Wolf began to jog back towards the start with groups two and six in reluctant tow, "We're heading back over to Area 12, and I'm going to start you with some basic stealth manoeuvres before we try you _again_ with yesterday's exercise…"

* * *

Alex, of course, fumbled the assault course the second time round as well, and watched with vague interest as Group Two looked awkward, Joe Radcliffe looked smug and Sam Lewis' girlfriend, Katie, gave him a sympathetic little smile that Alex was really glad Sam hadn't been around to see.

Wolf gave him a look which would have killed a small plant, and said, acidly, "Another unit'll meet you at the beginning, Rider. I can't arse about all day trying to teach you the basics. And an hour's duty tonight for wasting my time." Alex nodded, still pretending to be breathing heavily. "The rest of you, Area 12. Run."

As Alex began the jog back to the start line, it began to rain. Today just couldn't get any better.

B-Unit, minus Hawk, appeared after he'd been waiting for about five minutes, and gave him a couple of awkward smiles. Hawk's absence wasn't mentioned.

"We're watching you over the assault course, apparently." Jackal said, simply. "Wolf told us that your cover might have been compromised, and that he thought the best thing would be to separate you from your classmates until you lot can come up with a decent plan to deal with it. And Eagle said to make sure you manage it in under – what was it?"

"Sixteen and a half minutes." Bear supplied, with what Alex felt was an inappropriately amused grin.

"Sixteen and a half minutes," Jackal's face was totally blank, but Alex could tell he was enjoying this as much as his grinning team-mates, "And if you didn't, he'd lace your food with laxatives."

Alex smiled grimly. "You can tell him from me that if he does anything of the sort, I'll lace his with sedatives, and wax his legs in his sleep."

For a couple of moments, B-Unit just stared at him, then Cobra cracked a grin. "We'll be sure to pass along the message." He said, and shrugged. "I'm not sure that he'd _mind_, though… Not if he was asleep."

"Try giving him tranqs, instead." Bear suggested. "That way, he's still awake and can feel the pain, but won't be coordinated enough to fight back." His smile dimmed a little as he said it, and Alex, glancing once again at the thick scar across the man's forehead, remembered that he had been tortured before. He was probably giving advice he had personally lived through.

"Jackal? Any suggestions?" Cobra asked, innocently, and the older man ruthlessly smothered a grin.

"Yes. I think Cub should try and get over the damn course in under sixteen and a half minutes, so he doesn't need a contingency plan."

"Spoilsport." Cobra muttered, and Alex smothered a smile of his own. B-Unit had some problems, but it was reassuring to know that they were at least relatively normal when they weren't stressed about Hawk. And it was a relief not to have to deal with Hawk right now as well – god only knew he had enough on his plate already.

Alex managed the course in sixteen minutes and twenty seconds; B-Unit was waiting for him, having jogged to the end.

"Not bad, Cub." Jackal nodded, and his lips twitched into what might have been a smile. "Now, you get to do it all over again. Backwards."

Alex stared at him.

"And you have to beat that time." Cobra chipped in, with a grin of his own.

"It's endurance training." Bear said, lightly. "If you _do_ end up in a fight, the last thing you want to do is to run out of steam half way through."

"Oh, I hate you." Alex muttered, and turned back to the course.

"That sounded like insubordination to me. Did that sound like insubordination to you, Jackal?"

"Not yet. If I heard something like that again, it might, though." He said, and Alex sighed. "What're you waiting for, Cub? An invitation?"

Cobra gave him an insouciant grin in return to Alex's helpless glare, and ushered him firmly towards the end – now beginning – of the course.

* * *

Two hours later, after faintly hearing the second klaxon blare signalling the end of the paint-balling exercise Alex's class had just lived through, B-Unit finally let Alex stop running the assault course. Despite the length of the session, Alex hadn't actually gone over the damned thing too many times – when he was fully prepared to deal with it, he could manage it in just over a quarter of an hour, but by the end, he was only managing to finish it in about half an hour, and it took every ounce of willpower he had not to drop to the ground and lie there when Jackal told him he could stop. If he thought he had been tired and stiff this morning, that was nothing on how he felt now – he was muddy, exhausted and sick of the damned assault course. Not to mention he was relatively certain every single one of his limbs had seized up completely.

"Joking aside," Jackal said, thoughtfully. "That really wasn't bad, Cub. I know you feel like death right now," Alex managed a kind of grunt by way of agreement, "But you've got stamina and determination, and you're in brilliant shape, especially for… well, for someone your age." Dozily, Alex thought he might have been about to say something a little less complimentary before thinking better of it.

"Just as a reward, we won't tell Eagle that it took you a good fifteen minutes more than you were allowed to get over that last time." Cobra told him, kindly, and, if Alex had had more energy, he might have done something daring like flipped him off. As it was, the idea of trying to do anything more energetic than simply breathing was daunting just at the minute.

"You've got another hour and a half before lunch, and your classmates are going to be down at Area 12 all morning, and you won't get anything out of training if you can't think for tiredness." Bear said, humanely, and Alex could have kissed him for what he knew he was going to say next. "You might as well head back to your barracks and catch an hour or so's sleep. Will you wake up in time?"

"Why, planning to wake the kid with a kiss?" Cobra muttered, and Jackal sighed and smacked him upside the head. "What?!"

Alex swallowed, and managed to speak, though his tongue felt thick. "Yeah. My watch… alarm."

Bear smiled at his obvious exhaustion, and nodded. "Good. Bugger off then."

Normally, Alex would have been deeply suspicious of such good will, but after an almost non-existent night's sleep and an already-long day, he wasn't willing to question it. He simply turned, pausing at the sight of the slight hill which was the path back to the main camp and his barracks, and, literally screwing up the last of his energy, he began the long, slow trudge back to his barracks.

It took him about twenty minutes, though he paused briefly to set the alarm on his watch, and when he got in he did manage to pull off his muddy boots, trousers and jacket, slipping under the blanket in his boxers and the worn army-issue T-shirt. Last night, he had been thinking too hard to sleep; now, he was asleep before the blanket settled over him.

* * *

The whole of that morning had been miserable for Tom, with classmates who were constantly badgering him for more information about Alex's 'spying'. Ironically, people like Will Hartford were fine; his mocking questions were exactly what Tom felt he could deal with. If the questions were sarcastic, it would mean no one believed him, and that was what he wanted more than anything.

He tried to laugh it off, telling them that he'd been joking, and that there was nothing in it, he'd just been messing around, but no one seemed interested in buying that when believing what he'd said – or at least mocking it – was much more exciting. Every time someone asked him about it, Tom felt like seven kinds of bastard.

Luckily, the SAS had kept them pretty busy during the morning, first with that paint-ball exercise, which they'd done twice – the first time, a different group of soldiers managed to 'kill' all of them in under five minutes. There were four of them to twenty-nine school kids, and after that, they had been frightened enough to take the whole thing a little bit more seriously. Having a grim-faced soldier tell you that if you didn't stop 'messing the hell around' you would be killed in under a minute was enough to take the gloss off daily paint-balling.

After the paint-balling, they went over the simple camouflage manoeuvres the soldier called Eagle had taught them while Tom's group and Group Two had been going over the assault course again. They had been surprisingly difficult to master, even though they were 'simple', and even though Tom had been trying his hardest to get them. He managed to stop himself wondering how easy Alex would have found them – it was thinking things like that which had caused this whole problem in the first place.

They were kept so busy that morning that there was hardly any time to talk, and Tom wondered, when he had a moment free to think at all, whether it was deliberate. After all, they probably knew about – what had happened. He couldn't help but feel a little nervous, not knowing whether or not they knew about his involvement. If he had been in Alex's position, he would have told them about his part in it, for revenge – but then, he wouldn't have acted like Alex had at all.

It was only when they got to lunch that he started to worry about Alex, though. There was no sign of the other boy, and Tom had been hoping he could start making things up to his friend properly when Alex saw that he was really serious about setting things right. If he had to suffer for his mistake, he would, but he didn't want to lose Alex's friendship – not when they'd been friends for so long, and not when Alex needed a friend so badly.

Tom had done a lousy job of that so far, but he was going to do better. Alex _needed_ someone he could trust, and Tom knew he'd damaged that, quite possibly beyond repair. But – he squared his shoulders a little in the too-big uniform – he was no Alex, and he couldn't save the world. But he _could_, and was going to, try and do his best to help his best friend.

If only he'd thought of it that way earlier...

* * *

A lot of the mud had dried on his clothes by the time Alex woke, after an hour or so of blissful sleep, and he managed to beat the worst of it off – the uniform was still as uncomfortable to wear as ever, but it would have been nearly unbearable if he had been sharing it with half a tonne of Welsh mud. He still felt groggy, but he was at least certain the he could survive the afternoon now.

His arms and legs felt heavy, and he had to force himself out of the army issue cot-bed, but he managed it in the end, doing up the jacket buttons with fingers still thick and clumsy with sleep. The walk to the mess hall felt like a small hike, and he was still shaking off the last remnants of sleep as he half-walked, half-stumbled through the doors.

His classmates all went silent as he walked through the door, and though they started talking again fairly quickly – all about him, he was certain – he could feel their eyes on his back as he got his food and walked over. Tom shifted up, wordlessly making space for him, and giving him a quick smile which meant more than all his hopeful looks and deference that morning. It didn't heal the wounds, but it helped soothe them a little.

"How was the assault course?" he asked, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Yeah." Hartford leant over to him, grinning. "How was it? Unless you were saving the country instead?" He glanced at his friends, with another grin. "God help us if _you're_ the one helping keep us safe."

Alex raised an eyebrow at him. "Yeah. Yeah, this morning, I was trying to stop terrorists kill all of you, instead of having to go over the assault course again and again and again." He turned away from the other boy, back to Tom. "It was OK." He said, with a shrug. "I think I'm getting better."

Hartford, still listening, snorted. "In your dreams, Rider."

"Don't you have anything better to do than listen to me?" Alex asked, frowning.

Hartford frowned right back, instantly offended. "Of course I do!"

"Then why don't you _stop_?" Alex returned, mildly, and proceeded to ignore him while he spluttered through some kind of answer.

He ate very lightly, knowing that he was probably going to be enduring one of his combat lessons that afternoon since the rest of his class were due to be learning some more about martial arts and how to use them. Since he was only picking at his food, eventually abandoning it altogether, standing up and grabbing his tray to clear it. On his way over to the bin, he caught Wolf's eye, and sighed; the meaningful look could only mean one thing.

He had practice pretending to trip and fall, and he did so again now, falling over his own feet, and watching as the food still on his tray scattered everywhere, mush covering the floor.

Alex picked himself up, listening to his classmates sniggers, and watched as Wolf's boots came nearer and nearer.

"Honestly, Rider, can't you do _anything_?" he asked, sounding exasperated. "An extra hour of punishment duty tonight on top of your two – report here for clear up duty, and we'll see what else we have for you to do."

"_Another _hour?" he whined.

Wolf nodded. "For sheer, blind incompetence."

"But that's not f-"

"Shut up, or you'll get another." Wolf threatened, "And get this mess cleaned up." He turned to go, then looked back. "Oh, and report directly to Barrack Eleven after lunch – your class has a martial arts session, and it wouldn't do for you to break a nail." The sniggers got a little louder, and Alex made sure to look suitably shame-faced as he headed back with cleaning equipment to deal with the mess he'd made.

* * *

By the time he got to Barrack Eleven at two, B-Unit were once again waiting for him. He knew, from what Eagle had told him briefly when he cornered him outside the mess-hall, that D-Unit were going to be helping K-Unit do a demonstration of martial arts, and that all the other units currently situated on the base were helping train the 'real' recruits. From that inference, Alex got that B-Unit weren't considered safe enough to be around the other kids, or to be training the recruits; they were on 'light' duty only for the moment. What he couldn't work out was _why_. There was evidently something wrong with Hawk, but the whole unit being shelved like that confused him.

He was relieved to see that, once again, Hawk was missing, but Jackal gave him a tight smile, and said,

"We're just waiting for Hawk – he should be here any minute."

Alex nodded, and would have waited in silence, but Bear started up a conversation about the oncoming 'lesson', and he wasn't given the option. "Last time we fought you, you had trouble with switching between defence and offence." He said, quietly. "You've got to deal with that – forget that you're either fighting in one way or the other, and take any chance you get to go on the offence. You can't _win_ on defence, and that's what you've got to try and do every time."

Alex nodded. "Right, so-"

"I still don't know why we're giving him pointers." Hawk's voice came bitter and angry from behind Alex. "It's not like we should be encouraging him."

"Hawk, we've talked about this." Jackal said, firmly. "Keep your trap shut."

"Sir, yes, sir." He said, mockingly, and though Jackal's mouth thinned into a grim line, he said nothing to the other man.

"Right, Cub." he said, turning back to the boy. "We're going to spend fifteen minutes fighting like we did last time, then we'll discuss your technique, your flaws, OK? You won't improve if we don't help you. Once we've done that, we'll fight again, but slower, and we'll point out issues as we go along, so you can correct them."

Alex nodded. "Right, OK."

"Then - begin."

It was different to the last fight he'd had with B-Unit, more cohesive - Cobra literally kicked things off, aiming a kick at Alex's midriff and doubling it up to kick at his knee. If they had connected, they would have easily brought him down - as it was, Alex moved out of way of one, and blocked the other, shoving the older man round, and landing a light upper-cut blow to his kidneys. He only just had time to move out of the way of a punch from Jackal, who had aimed for his temple with a blow which would easily have knocked him out. It was easy enough to avoid, and he ducked under it, landing another light punch to the man's stomach - not even enough to wind him, but hadn't they said that this was supposed to be a more learning-orientated fight?

Bear stepped forwards, grabbing his arm as Alex aimed a punch at him, mindful of what the man had said about offence and defence, and he found himself pulled off balance - it was only a quick twist which stopped him from ending up on the floor, at their mercy. Actively throwing himself forward, he managed to use his momentum to pull Bear down with him, and he himself twisted back up again, only to receive a pulled knife-hand strike to the neck; it was only because Jackal pulled the punch that he managed to avoid being knocked out once more. He twisted to find Bear behind him, back on his feet - and realised that, although Hawk was still an unknown quantity, the rest of them were working fluidly as a team, and that this fight was going to be much more difficult than the one he'd had with them before. He had Jackal behind him, ready to take him out, probably only waiting because they weren't actively supposed to be trying to take him out, and Bear was more than able to deal with any attacks Alex might launch. He needed to get a wall to his back, so he could take them on one at a time.

Turning rather desperately, he found himself face-to-face with Hawk, not Jackal, who had moved to one side, and was watching warily as his team-mate faced off against Alex. "What's the matter, _Cub_?" Hawk asked, rather nastily. "Not used to fighting people who can actually fight back?"

* * *

Dun dun Duuuuun!

...or not. So, this sets up the Hawk situation to be resolved - or, well, at least hashed out, if not resolved ^_^ - and it should all be over next time! I hope. I've been promising answers for a good three chapters now, but it was going to take me a very long time to get it all in, not to mention the chapter would have been ridiculously long.

But now. This is the set-up - the resolve is coming. *g*

Anyway, hope you all enjoyed! Do tell.

-amitai


	11. Chapter 11

Good god, it's back. ^_^

This chapter was NEVER supposed to be so long - and it was also supposed to completely resolve the Hawk issue, but then it topped 16 000 words and 32 pages, and I thought, hmm, maybe time to stop writing. It got to a convenient stopping place, so I stopped. On a cliff-hanger. Or, er, a cliff-dropper. (grin)

I have washing to do now, so let's all pretend I was my usual sparklingly witty self, and I'll let you get on to the story without too much fuss! For once. The Authors Note of Doom is more a sort of Authors Postscript of Minor Inconvenience.

WARNINGS: The SAS have potty mouths. Alex has a potty mouth. Also, violence. Really, you should be able to work these things out for yourselves, people. ^_^ But I promise you, if Hawk and Alex ever sneak off to the woods to have rampant hard-core sex, I'll warn for that.

DISCLAIMER: Please, like Anthony Horowitz is as skint as me.

Onwards and upwards, dear readers!

* * *

Alex frowned at him, as did Jackal. "Wh-?" he started, blankly, but was given no chance to finish his sentence, as Hawk launched a particularly vicious punch at him, and Alex really had to throw himself into the fight with him.

He only vaguely saw, out of the corner of his eye, as Jackal stopped both Bear and Cobra from – what? Intervening? Joining in? – but he didn't have much time to process it. Hawk's punches were coming far faster than he had expected, and he really had to think fast to block them. Any thought of going on the offensive had disappeared; he was working too hard just defending himself to try and pull it off.

Alex dodged the blow which came his way, and Hawk lash out again before moving again, ducking under it and sinking a fist into the man's stomach, aiming to wind him. For a moment, Hawk wheezed, but he recovered fast; Alex's only warning was the minute twitch before he kicked out, trying to pull Alex's legs from under him.

"That's what slimy little rats like you do, isn't it," Hawk sneered at him, and stupidly, Alex paused to listen to him, half-confused, half-intrigued. He wanted to know what Hawk's problem with him was. "You let people think they're safe with you, and then you hit them where it hurts."

Behind Alex, unseen, Bear bit his lip.

Alex just shook his head. "I haven't got a clue what you're talking about," he told him honestly, blocking the man's punches almost absently, brain working overtime to try and solve the mystery, "Of course I'm trying to hit you were it hurts, this is a-"

Although Alex's auto-pilot worked well - brilliantly - against his untrained classmates, it was hardly a match for a fully trained elite soldier, and the blow Hawk landed to his stomach doubled him up. "That what you did with your uncle?" The man taunted. "How long did it take him to see through you, hmm? When did you have to take him out?"

Alex straightened with some difficulty, his frown a little angrier than before, a little harder. "I don't know what you're talking about," he repeated, stiffly. The jab about Ian had hurt.

"Bollocks," Hawk spat, "Of course you do."

"Look, you two," Jackal tried, keeping his voice calm, "I think we've had enough for tod-"

"When're you going to turn on your classmates?" Hawk ignored his team leader, eyes fixed on Alex. "I've seen them around you; even idiots like them know when they should be avoiding someone."

"Shut up," Alex snapped; apparently, his classmates rejection had hurt him more than he'd thought.

"Can't take a few home truths, Rider?" Hawk's voice was vicious, his expression triumphant. "Don't like it when the table's turned, do you? Shouldn't dish this sort of stuff out when you can't take it."

"I don't dish_ anything_ out," Alex said, hands in fists at his sides, his whole body tense.

"Don't think I don't_know_," Hawk said mockingly, "Everyone else is all about giving you a second chance, letting you prove yourself, but you've done that already, haven't you? Defecting like that," Alex shook his head, trying to understand, trying to follow the train of thought, "Oh, I know," Hawk didn't let up for a moment, his voice mocking and sarcastic, and Alex could feel frustration coiling in his stomach, a thin string of anger stretching too tight inside him. Parts of what Hawk was saying were ringing too true for him. "I know people like you-"

"Hawk, we've talked about this," Bear spoke up, "Everything's just fine, OK? Cool-"

"No! God, Charlie, if we don't-"

"Stop it!" Bear rapped out, his voice sharper than Alex had ever heard it. "We're on duty, you use my codename-"

"No one else would do anything!" Hawk's voice was almost anguished, and Alex frowned at Jackal, who wouldn't meet his eyes, "But if we let them just get away with sending this little brat in here-"

"Look, I don't know why you hate me so much," Alex said, trying to be reasonable even as his own annoyance rose with every passing insult, "But I haven't done_anything_. Or nothing that I wasn't ordered to, anyway," he amended, thinking of the people who had died in the course of his assignments.

Hawk glared at him, "Do you think," he said, voice low and thrumming with fury, "That 'I was ordered to' is any kind of excuse for the sh*t you do?" he stepped towards Alex, who automatically brought his hands up in a basic block; being in situations like this so often meant some reactions were just ingrained by now.

"You follow orders as well," He said, beginning to move beyond irritated into angry, "Why is what I do any worse than what you-"

"Don't you_dare_ compare-" Hawk began, angrily, only to be interrupted by Jackal, who tried once more to reason with them. Alex, though not exactly accepted at this camp, had been sure he was safe from unexpected attack here, and began to relax his block - the punch Hawk managed to land square on his cheek shocked him out of complacency.

Without thinking about it, he tightened his block and hit back, letting a different kind of autopilot take over, the kind which focussed his mind on the fight at hand, on his opponent, and blocked every external stimulus.

Hawk's grin was vicious. "See what I mean?" he blocked Alex's kick with such force that he spun round and ended up with his back to Hawk, and he had to duck quickly to avoid the punch Hawk aimed at his kidneys. "I know scum like you," Hawk continued, stepping back as Alex recovered and tried to sweep his feet out from under him, "You try and hide it so well, but in the end, you're all the same - vicious bastards. I bet your uncle never even saw it coming, did he?"

Alex tried not to let the insult get to him, but the thought of being lumped with people like Scorpia - the people who had killed his every chance of a normal life before he was old enough to talk, who had lied to him and manipulated him and tried to make him_kill_ - snapped the thread holding his temper in check.

"_Shut up_," he said, low and deadly, and behind him, Jackal began to frown, while Hawk's nasty grin became triumphant.

"And if I don't?" He gave him a falsely sympathetic look, "Truth hurts, doesn't it_Cub_? We all know you were given a codename so we knew who to look out for... Just because you've somehow seduced K-Unit-"

Alex didn't answer, just reacted - he kicked out twice, one kick aimed at the head, the other aimed at the knee, his foot never touching the ground in between. Hawk managed to move out of range of the kick which would easily have broke his nose, but wasn't quick enough to get out of the way of the second, unexpected kick. His movement saved his knee-cap though - a fraction earlier, and Alex would have done some serious damage. As it was, his foot slammed into the softer point just above Hawk's knee, where the muscle joined the ligament, and though he swore viciously, it hardly incapacitated him.

Jackal, watching, was shocked by the change in the boy. Up until now, they'd been fighting a highly competent teenager, well-trained and experienced, but not_dangerous_. And though they'd all been fighting him, they hadn't gone full out - they wanted to teach the kid, not kill him. But here, neither of them were holding back, and Cub was holding his own with ease. And this boy wasn't just dangerous, he was lethal; he lacked Hawk's weight and strength, but he more than made up for it with his own skill and speed. If they didn't do something quickly, one or both of the opponents was going to get hurt.

But as he stepped forwards, Cobra laid a hand on his arm. "Which one are you going to take out of the fight?" He asked, quietly, and Jackal paused. Which_would_ he go for? Cub was the younger one, but he was also, at this moment, the more dangerous. Hawk was the agressor, but he was their team-mate and not a mentally stable place at the moment. He'd had no idea that Hawks's obsession was going to take him this far.

"I-" he began, not liking to look indecisive in front of his team, but Cobra shook his head.

"I don't think we dare interfere unless it gets dangerous-" he started.

"Cobra, it already_is_ dangerous!" Jackal hissed back, but his teammate shook his head.

"Nowhere near as bad as it could be," he pointed out. "And if we get involved, that's just going to up the ante. If it looks like one of them is going to be seriously hurt, then we go in."

Jackal didn't like it, but he let it go. God only knew he didn't want to have to fight a child who looked like Cub did right now.

Unaware of this by-play, Hawk struck out with a palm-heel strike aimed at Alex's solar plexus; Alex borrowed a move from his opponent, and let the blow hit him in a neutral spot, absorbing the impact and moving on, jabbing out quickly and following up immediately with a front kick aimed at Hawk's groin. Hawk wasn't pulling punches - there was no way Alex was going to do it either.

Hawk blocked the kick, and took full advantage of Alex's moment of disorientation, grabbing his wrist and pulling him into a half-nelson.

"Not so much fun on this side of things, is it?" He whispered into Alex's ear.

"No," Alex agreed grimly, "But then, if I were in your place, I'd make sure," he stepped heavily on Hawk's foot, knowing the heavy army boots they both wore would make his move little more than a distraction, and leaning heavily backwards, all but throwing his weight onto Hawk. The bigger man had to adjust his stance, and Alex pressed the advantage, forcing him off balance and, taking the opportunity to slam his elbow back into Hawk's face, "That my opponent was actually out of the fight." His eyes were very cold as he pulled himself out of Hawk's weakened grasp - his arm sore and sprained - and turned to face the man.

"You only like people who can't fight back, don't you?" Hawk spat, winded, forcing himself to stand straight, amd keep his own guard strong.

"You two-" Jackal tried again.

"Shut up!" Hawk snapped, and if Alex was at all surprised or shocked by Hawk's insubordination, he didn't show it. He was too busy blocking the flurry of punches Hawk whirled into, landing a few of his own. At least in an all-out fight like this one, he could switch off all the worries he had, all his thoughts about why Hawk was acting like this, and just react, letting all the anger and frustration which had been building up over the last few days lend him adrenaline so he could react faster and hit harder.

Unfortunately, letting anger take over rarely ended well for Alex.

It was too easy for him to forget - as he sometimes did - that even as a fourteen year old he had been trained to fight like this since he could toddle, and that, angry, he knew exactly where to punch and had the training and muscle power to do some serious damage.

And, angry, he had never been trained in when to stop.

When he was in this frame of mind, there were rarely innocent civilians stood by; everyone was a threat of some kind. Subconsciously, as he fought Hawk, he was working out how to deal with the three by-standers, all of whom were too taken aback - and wary of Alex himself - to interfere.

His momentary distraction got him slammed into a wall, his head smacking back into it with a sickening crack, stunning him. For a moment there were black spots in his vision, and he acted on instinct, bringing one knee up and pushing Hawk away, arching back against the wall to get the greatest possible leverage as he kicked out.

For the next few minutes, they fought on in grim silence, the rest of B-Unit uncomfortable witnesses in the background, until Alex got through Hawk's guard, slipping up and under and slamming a palm-heel strike into Hawk's nose. It broke with a horrible crunching sound, but Hawk was lucky; Alex had got the angle wrong. The blow still knocked him out cold, but if Alex had aimed properly, the shards of bone from his nose would have driven up into his brain and killed him.

For a moment, the room was silent except for Alex's pants, then he turned to the rest of B-Unit, kicking up one of the metal poles from the scaffolding lying by the edge of the wall and holding it entirely too competently for comfort.

Bear frowned at the boy in front of him. There was little to no recognition in his face, his eyes cold and assessing as he looked at them.

Jackal took the step forward that none of them wanted to make, and Cub adjusted his stance accordingly.

"Cub," Jackal's voice was sharp and authoritative and he carefully didn't look at Hawk, lying behind Alex where the boy had knocked him out. "Stand. Down."

Alex frowned, "Excuse me?" He asked, voice very low.

"I said stand the f*ck down, Cub," Jackal rapped out, "We've got to get Hawk to the infirmary, and we can't do that with you in the way."

At least, Bear amended, not while Cub was holding that metal pole.

For a moment, Cub's hands were white-knuckled on his impromptu staff, his expression torn and strangely confused. Then he shook his head, letting the pole drop and leaning against it as if it was holding him up, his body language relaxing into simple confusion rather than that deadly unrecognition from earlier. "I - yeah. Of course." he said, slowly. "Sorry about that."

Jackal's expression remained wary and cool. "Not us you need to apologise to," he said, and though Bear recognised the coolness his leaders way of dealing with situations which worried or confused him, Cub evidently didn't.

"No," he agreed, looking down at Hawk and frowning. "Why - why does he hate me so much?" he asked, sounding oddly childlike.

For a moment, Bear wished that their situations weren't classified; that they could explain things to Cub, and that Cub could have reassured Hawk - and, to an extent, Bear too - that he was nothing to do with Scorpia, the bastards. But wishing wasn't going to get him anywhere, and he went to help Cobra lift Hawk. The damage was well and truly done.

"Never mind, Cub," Jackal said, still cool and aloof. "Go and get cleaned up, you're a mess - your classmates will start to ask questions."

"Class- yeah. Of course they will." Cub agreed, keeping his voice slow and careful. "I - yeah. See you around."

Bear almost cracked a smile at the incongruity of that, but kept it off his face as Cub made his way, as slow and careful as his speech, across the room to the door. When it shut behind him, Jackal turned to his team-mates, frowning and confused.

"What the_hell_ just happened here?"

* * *

Alex made his way back to the boys barracks, half-wishing he hadn't left that pole behind him in the shed - the world was spinning horribly around him, and walking in a straight line was becoming ridiculously difficult. Some cold water on his face and a couple of painkillers would do wonders, he thought dimly; Hawk hadn't pulled his punches any more than he, Alex, had. He was lucky he'd got that strike through, or god only knew how many pieces of him B-Unit would have been carting to the infirmary.

Back in the barracks, he sat on his bed for a few minutes, trying to muster the energy to get up and clean himself off. His combats were a mess, and even though his head was pounding, he could feel his jaw throbbing, a different, jarring beat which signalled the arrival of a new bruise. God only knew how he was going to explain that one, and once again, he thanked whoever was listening that his 'punishment duties' kept him from showering with the other boys. He would never have been able to explain all his sudden bruising.

It took an effort of will to get up off his bed and stumble to the shower rooms, where he pulled his jacket top off with thick-fingered hands which shook. Hawk's grip during the half-nelson had left a red handprint on his wrist, visible even nearly a quarter of an hour later - but Alex had experience with these things. The mark would fade - and maybe parts of it would leave bruises, by they wouldn't be too inexplicably shaped. Alex didn't think even he could explain away a handshaped bruise to his classmates, especially now that they were so suspicious.

Pulling off his t-shirt, he examined the damage. The bullet wound sat thick and white and too near his heart; but now there were bruises uncomfortably close to it. Now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off, a stiffness was making itself known in his joints and muscles, which would be followed by a dull, aching pain in due course; he'd let Hawk land more hits than he'd thought. Then again, he rarely noticed injuries at the time.

The only real problem, he decided, moving stiffly towards the basin and turning the tap awkwardly with his sprained arm, was going to be the bruise on his jaw. What could he possibly come up with to hide that?

He looked up into the dull mirror above the sinks - only there so the soldiers could make sure they were properly clean-shaven - and was shocked by his own reflection. His face was waxy-white and his eyes looked over-bright; his hair was slicked to his fore-head, limp with sweat. He hadn't even noticed himself sweating so much.

With a sigh, he dragged his hand through it, messing the strands plastered to his head, and the streak of red on his palm caught his eye as he pulled away. Gently, he felt the back of his head with the sensitive pads of his fingers; they came away red with blood, and the lump on his head stung in protest at his examination.

Alex slumped forwards over the sink, arms braced on the edges, head hanging down. God, he was a mess. Evidently, when Hawk had slammed him into that wall, it had done more damage than he'd thought. There went all his sleep tonight; if he fell asleep, he risked slipping into unconsciousness, and he didn't want to know what kind of shit he would land in if he missed his time at the shooting range. Not to mention, being unconscious in front of his classmates left him too vulnerable; he couldn't afford them seeing any of his scars, or indeed any of his new bruises.

Tomorrow was going to be hell.

He washed his face, and then splashed some of the lukewarm water onto his chest. A proper shower would have been better, but he didn't have the time for one - the rest of the class would be finishing up their martial arts session any time now, and he couldn't afford to be missing for too long, not when they were watching his every move so closely. He did take the time to scrub some shampoo into his hair from a bottle one of his classmates had left in here - and who was using Herbal Essences, really? - because although it would be easier to explain sweat-slicked hair than simply wet, he was fairly certain none of his classmates would recognise the difference, and he wanted to wash some of the fight away from him.

It had been messy and unpleasant, he thought, thinking back through it, and he didn't like the things Hawk had been saying about him; some had come far too near several raw nerves Alex had been trying to ignore. And it mixed too much of his worlds together - this whole set up placed his parallel lives far too close to each other, and neither benefitted from the contrast.

Staring at himself in the mirror, pale-skinned and hollow-eyed, he realised how much he hated this whole thing. More than anything else, he wanted it to be over.

But it wasn't yet, he thought dully, pushing himself away from the sink, and he had places to be and people to lie to.

Pausing only to replace his T-shirt with something drier and straighten his uniform, he headed back to the large shed where the rest of his class were training.

* * *

Getting Hawk to the infirmary took a fair while; he was no lightweight, and Cub had really done a number on him - but from what the medic said no lasting damage had been done. Hawk would wake up the same bastard he'd been when Cub knocked him out, and the likelihood of any brain damage was fairly low.

"There's a wide discrepancy between the amount of power needed to knock someone out and to cause brain damage," the medic said tersely, "Hawk might have a mild concussion, but the method this boy used to knock him out - breaking his nose like that - makes it unlikely that he'll suffer any long term issues, or many immediate ones for that matter."

"Would he have known that?"

The medic gave him a look, "From the way the blow was administered, I'd say Cub was trying to kill him, so I doubt he cared either way," he said, "But it's_possible_ he knew that his method would cause only mild, temporary mental damage such as concussion." He sounded worryingly doubtful. "Hawk should wake up in a couple of hours - he'll be fine here."

Jackal nodded his thanks and turned back to his team mates; for a moment, they stood in silence round Hawk's bed. Hawk's breathing was regular, one eye starting to swell and blacken, his nose taped back into place. There'd be a lump when it healed, but nothing too bad.

Cobra broke the silence. "OK, so. What the hell just happened?"

"Hawk taunted the poor kid beyond endurance?" Bear suggested, "Or would we prefer to believe that Hawk was completely in the right and was mercilessly attacked by a _fourteen year old_?"

His voice was thin and rather high, and Cobra clasped his elbow for a second.

"You OK, mate?" he asked carefully, and Bear swallowed, taking a deep breath before answering.

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for," Cobra said easily, "And it's a good question. What are we going to say about this?"

Jackal rubbed at his forehead with one hand. "Neither of them were in the right, but at least we know what the problem with Hawk is. Cub just -_went_ for him, and he didn't recognise us afterwards. I mean, what the hell is wrong with the kid? I think – well, we're going to have to do something about Hawk," his remaining team-mates nodded; they'd known that for a while now. Their biggest mistake was not doing something about it before now. "But I don't think we can let Cub's behaviour go. There was provocation, I know, but the kid doesn't understand a proportional response. MI6 had better know that their operative's such a loose cannon."

"Yeah," Cobra agreed when it became obvious that Bear wasn't going to say anything.

"Bear? What do you think?"

"You don't - I mean, you don't think there's anything in what Hawk was saying?" he asked, and Jackal frowned.

"No, I don't," he said firmly, "I think Hawk's hung up about that – and hell, we all know why," Bear's expression was tense and miserable, so Jackal hurried on quickly, "And he leaped to the nearest conclusion about the kid. You think MI6 would honestly want to train a kid who could be that dangerous to them? Or that they'd let him anywhere_near_ a classful of ordinary children if he was going to be a real danger?"

"I don't know, they're pretty bloody ruthless, aren't they?" Bear pointed out, "I think they'd probably do anything they thought was best."

Jackal just shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, you've got a point, but I honestly don't think they'd risk letting an enemy operative they can't trust loose with a bunch of handy hostages."

Bear nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

"C'mon." Cobra said, glancing momentarily at Jackal, "I don't know about you, but I'm shattered; anyone else fancy a kip?"

"You'd sleep your life away if you could," Jackal muttered, following them, "I'll see you back at the barracks - I'm going to go and make a report about all this. Hawk's in the infirmary, it's not like we can keep it quiet."

* * *

Tom gave Alex a worried glance as he entered the shed, and he quickly pasted a look of injured petulance onto his face before anyone else could see him. Evidently, he wasn't hiding his sheer exhaustion well enough.

"..._have_ to work as a team," Eagle was saying again, his voice taut with frustration, "How many times would you like us to say this before you get caught out and killed when this situation becomes real?"

A few of his classmates shifted uncomfortably, but Alex couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for them; if they couldn't wise up and learn to act sensibly, they deserved it. No doubt he'd change his mind once this exhaustion wore off, but for the moment, he had no emotion to spare on them.

"Right, you lot, listen up," Wolf said, his voice carrying effortlessly. "If you were half decent, we'd keep you working through the weekend, but you'd evidently burn out if we tried. Tomorrow you'll have light exercises, give you a chance to wind down," excited whispers broke out across the room, and Wolf glared them into silence, "And on Sunday, you'll be coming into Brecon for church."

"I don't go to church," one of the girls said, unwisely, "I'm an atheist."

Wolf raised an eyebrow. "I don't give a damn what you are, you'll be coming to church."

Alex frowned to himself; there'd been no mention whatsoever of church last time he'd been here. Evidently, they were trying to kill time on a day when they had nothing assigned for the kids.

"After church, you've had schoolwork forwarded here by your school, and you'll get that done in the mess hall. Anyone who doesn't finish within the alloted time will spend the afternoon running the assault course, is that clear?" A chorus of 'yeses' broke out, and he nodded tersely, shutting them up immediately. "If the work's done - and someone_will_ be checking - you'll have the afternoon free. Anyone making a prat out of themselves will join their idle friends on the assault course." he paused, "Is there anything anyone doesn't understand?" Silence. "Good. Now, since you'll be wasting two whole days doing bugger all, we've organised a night exercise for you; six o'clock on the RV after you've eaten, got me? Rider, you'll be doing your punishment duties, since we don't trust you to do anything in the dark. Any problems?" Another ringing silence; no one even reacted to the jab at Alex. "Excellent, now get out. Anyone who's late is going to be enjoying another midnight swim."

"Rider, stay behind," Fox said, as the rest of the class started to leave "And we'll try and teach you some baby-steps so you won't be a complete dead-weight for your little friends to carry."

Alex waited while his class filed past him, and Tom muttered, "I'll wait for you outside," as he went by. Alex only just mustered up a smile for his friend - he really felt terrible, and the looks on K-Unit's face didn't help; they were evidently royally frustrated.

Eagle and Snake had started putting away the round pads used for practicing hits by the time the large shed was empty of other teenagers, so Fox and Wolf converged on Alex together.

"What the hell happened to your face?" Fox asked abruptly, frowning at Alex's new bruise.

Almost unconsciously, he brought his hand up to touch it gently, "I had combat training," he pointed out simply; it wasn't like they didn't know what that meant. "And a hit got through."

Wolf frowned. "Then you'd better try harder, Cub - you can't afford that kind of stupidity at the moment."

Alex choked back a hysterical laugh. Really, he was too low for this at the moment. "Yeah, I'll do my best," he agreed unsteadily. "Anything else?"

"What are you going to tell your classmates about it?" Wolf persisted.

"Oh, I don't know - I ran sideways into a wall or something," he shrugged, too tired to care. Everything felt so_heavy_. "They'll believe anything of me so long as it's stupid enough."

Wolf's frown didn't let up. "Don't be facetious, Cub."

"Don't treat me like an idiot, and I won't have to be," Alex snapped back. "Look, if you haven't got anything useful to say to me, I'm going to lunch."

"Calm the hell down, Cub," Fox said sharply, and to his utter horror, Alex felt tears sting in his eyes. He_couldn't_ be crying over this! It was ridiculous! He blinked rapidly, and the stinging subsided, but his humiliation was utterly complete. "Stop acting like a child."

"I_am_ a child," he muttered, wishing he was since he couldn't remember a time when he had been. "And sometimes, I wish you lot would let me be one."

"You can't afford it," Fox said relentlessly. "You've no idea - we just trained your classmates, Cub, and they're sodding useless. A seven year old with some basic training could take most of them, let alone fully trained adults. You're the best chance they have, so grow up a bit."

Alex gritted his teeth and nodded carefully; the throbbing in his head was getting worse. "I- OK." he agreed dully.

Fox looked taken aback; apparently, Alex had capitulated far faster than he'd expected. "Well, good. I - yeah. Good. Keep it that way."

"Was there anything else you wanted?" he kept his voice scrupulously polite.

"Come to our barracks tonight again; we're going to come up with a properly organised programme to follow so your classmates don't get too suspicious."

"What about the night ex-" Alex started, but was interrupted by an impatient Fox.

"F- and D-Unit will be supervising that," he said. "The change around will be good for your - class."

"Right," Alex turned away. "See you there, then."

He concentrated on his pounding head as he walked away; it was easier than trying to untangle the emotions left by that little exchange. God, he was having such a bad day.

* * *

Outside, Tom met his eyes worriedly, "You look terrible," he said simply, glancing at the bruise blooming on Alex's jaw. "What happened?"

The honest concern eased a little of the tension in him, and Alex managed a small smile. "Combat training happened," he returned, equally simple.

"You've never explained what that is," Tom fell into step with him, both of them keeping their voices low in case of unwanted listeners.

"Basically? It's one of the units ganging up on me and then beating the shit out of me."

Tom stared. "But that's -_abuse_, Alex."

Alex laughed without humour, "Yeah, maybe." he nodded, "But trust me when I tell you I've had worse."

"Maybe," Tom agreed, stubbornly, "But you're not on one of your missions now, you're supposed to be safe here."

Alex kept quiet at that, because he suspected he would get hysterical if he opened his mouth. "Yeah, safe," he managed, eventually. "I guess, they're just preparing me for when we leave here. After all, you know, people like you are gonna be OK, you take this seriously. People like Joe and Will? Are gonna freak if anything happens, because they think this whole thing is a joke."

"And when it turns out it's not, you have to protect them?" Tom frowned. "But they're bastards! They make things a as difficult as possible for you!"

Alex shrugged, though he agreed with his friend. "But they don't deserve to die for that, not if I can do something about that."

"I guess..." Tom took a deep breath. "I just - don't want anything to happen to you because of them. Because they're idiots who wouldn't know danger if it bit them."

Alex cracked a grin at that. "You're the first person who's said that," he said, bumping shoulders with his friend, "Everyone else seems to think I'm some kind of - insurance policy for this whole damn class."

Tom paused, then fell back in step with Alex. "I guess it's because you're just that good," he tried.

"Yeah, and isn't that the most backhanded compliment I've ever had," Alex muttered.

Tom's expression was worried, but when he next spoke, his voice was firm. "I'll make sure you don't have to do all this alone," he said. "I'll help."

"Two weeks - well, a week now - isn't very long to learn, Tom."

Tom just shrugged. "Then I guess I'd better try harder. I could be really good at this, Alex, you know I could. If anything happens, you'll know what to do - so give me some ideas, and I'll learn how to put them into practice."

"I'm not going to put you in that kind of danger!" Alex said, revolted by the thought.

"Don't be a prat, Alex, you're not the one putting me in danger, the people trying to kill us are," Tom said scornfully. "And if I choose to - to learn to defend myself and my other friends properly, that's my look out, isn't it? And you know how to deal with this sort of stuff. Listening to you's just common sense." He looked momentarily guilty. "Even if it took me a while to realise that."

They walked in silence for a few minutes, before Tom spoke up again.

"So, these light exercises they were talking about. What do you think they're going to be?"

Alex shrugged, but for a moment, things seemed a bit lighter and easier. "No idea - but I'm willing to be our idea and their idea of light exercises doesn't have much in common..."

* * *

Tom had managed to tease Alex into a better mood by the time they reached the mess hall, but it didn't survive the interrogation by his classmates, sprung on him the moment he sat down with his tray of slop.

"So, what's with the bruise, Rider?" one of the girls asked, her expression half-wary, half-interested.

Alex touched his jaw and tried to look chagrined, though his face didn't seem to be cooperating any more than the rest of his body. "I fell over - hit a table on the way down," he muttered, and watched Tom's knuckles go white as he gripped his fork far too tightly.

Hartford laughed, "Seriously? Even_you're_ not that much of a klutz, Rider, surely."

"Well, unless you think I'm letting members of the SAS beat me up on the sly," Alex returned as sharply as he could.

"Well, I don't know," Sam said, giving him a thoughtful look, "You're the teenage spy - maybe that's the sort of thing you do for kicks."

Alex managed a grin, but he suspected it wasn't entirely convincing, "If I was a spy, I'd have to be in top condition the whole time, wouldn't I?" he pointed out, "And I'm still underage - any of the soldiers beating me up would get put in prison."

"I don't think they have the same rules here," Becky pointed out, her eyes too interested on Alex's face, and he shrugged, taking an unwilling mouthful of the gloop masquerading as cottage pie.

"Maybe not," he agreed. "But the edge of a table can still make one hell of a bruise."

"You know, Rider, it amazes me that Brooklands even_took_ you, sometimes," Hartford scoffed, "And Harris? Nice one. Teenage spy, my arse."

Tom shrugged, and even Alex was impressed by his look of total indifference. "I'm just surprised that there are idiots taking it seriously," he said, simply. "As if_Alex_ could be a spy."

Luckily, Alex was the only one who could feel his friend practically vibrating with tension beside him.

Quickly, he changed the subject. "So, how was the paintballing?" he tried, and although most people gave him an incredulous look and turned away, Ben answered quickly, one eye on Tom forking up his cottage pie in grim, angry silence.

"Not bad," he said, "Bit scary, though; the soldiers thought we weren't taking it seriously enough, and took us out in five minutes flat, then told us to damn well take things seriously."

Alex mustered a smile, "Sounds like them."

"Doesn't it?" Tom agreed, relaxing enough that Charlotte came into the conversation.

"The thing is," she said, in her quiet, shy way, "There still aren't enough of us taking it seriously; by the time we leave, we're not going to be ready for anything which might happen."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, they said they were going to slowly stop us fighting back with the guns," she reminded them, "And we're nowhere near ready for that."

Alex resisted the urge to say anything reassuring to her - how would he know, after all, if he was just one of them? - and nodded, "Yeah, it's a shame no one else will take it seriously."

"But you can't do anything, they won't let you," Ben said slowly, "That must be frustrating. What are you going to do if we are attacked?"

Alex nudged Tom's knee with his own as his friend stiffened beside him, trying to relax him. "Try and stay out of trouble," he said calmly. "The last thing you need is me getting in the way."

Ben gave him a long look, but let it pass, and Charlotte began to say something about how unlikely she thought it was that they were going to be attacked when they were interrupted by Eagle.

"Rider?" His voice was cool, his expression bored; nothing like the Eagle Alex was beginning to recognise, "Your guardian is on the phone for you up at HQ; you can take the phone call this once, but make sure it doesn't happen again, alright? We haven't got time to baby you here."

Alex forced a flush to his cheeks as some of his less kind classmates heard what had happened and began to whisper again, glancing at him every so often. It was horrible how standard it felt to be the focus of all the gossip.

He stood, over-aware of his own body, and headed to get rid of what was left on his tray, pocketing the apple for later, trying to think why he would be summoned up to HQ. It wasn't Jack, after all - they'd agreed that he wouldn't get in contact with her whilst he was at the camp unless there was an emergency - so who could it be?

His head was starting to pound again, the three aspirin he'd taken earlier doing nothing to ease the pain; either they were wearing off, or his headache was getting worse. He all but stumbled up to the main building, past the phones in the area off the lobby where the other children in his class were able to phone home, and up the bare, functional staircase to a bare, functional office, all fake wood and white plastic. A man Alex didn't recognise was sat behind the desk, and another, grimmer faced, was stood next to it.

"Rider." The grim-faced man standing by the desk held out a hand. "Robert Fanshawe - and this is Captain Harding. He very generously let us borrow his office for this meeting."

"Pleased to meet you both?" Alex said, rather warily.

Fanshawe waved the pleasantry aside. "Yes. I'm here from our employer about your behaviour this afternoon."

Alex puzzled over both his 'employer' and his 'behaviour this afternoon' - the pain in his head was even making thinking hard - before hitting the jackpot. "Oh, you mean Hawk!" he exclaimed, and Fanshawe frowned, evidently thinking he was being flippant.

"Unless there's any other behaviour you think they should be aware of?" He asked, tartly, and in any other situation Alex would have shaken his head, but given the pain, he simply shrugged. Fanshawe's frown darkened, but he still didn't look angry - and suddenly Alex understood the man. He was MI6's version of Wolf; gifted and intelligent, but with enough of a sense of duty to follow even the orders he found distasteful. "You behaviour is out of order," He rapped out. "You are a fully trained operative, and if you persist to act so..." he allowed himself a dramatic pause, "Recklessly, MI6 will be forced to take action. Such an eventuality would not be pleasant for anyone."

"What sort of 'action' are we talking about here?" Alex asked, voice very soft in a vain attempt to reduce the ringing..

Momentarily, Fanshawe allowed his face to soften, and he said, rather more quietly. "MI6 are detached, but they're not monsters." He said, though Alex wasn't wholly convinced, "It would be proportional." His expression became stern once more. "The last thing MI6 needs is an agent on the loose. If they think you're going that way, they_will_ reign you in - sharply. If I were you, I'd do my best to avoid that."

"I understand." Alex said, still quietly.

Fanshawe was evidently far too professional to shift uncomfortably, but Alex was far too good not to notice the unhappy set of the man's shoulders, or the way one corner of his mouth twitched very slightly before he nodded, as if he had been about to say something.

"Remember it." He said, curtly, an obvious dismissal.

Alex nodded, once, very slowly, then left the room. His head pounded as he got out into the corridor, and he felt that same sudden, unaccountable urge to cry from earlier. Honestly, of all the ways he could have had that warning, that was one of the nicer ones, and here he was, tearing up over it. Ridiculous.

Still, he had to blink quite firmly to stop himself from being such a fool. He felt raw with embarrassment, and the last thing he wanted to do was face anyone. Dinner wouldn't be over yet, he would head back to the barracks and pick up some of his aspirin from there. He had about half an hour before he had to be in K-Unit's barracks; some more painkillers and some fresh air would clear his headache, he was sure of it.

* * *

Back at the barracks, he swallowed three paracetomol dry, and went to sit on the small wooden porch outside the door. Given that it was March, it was practically dark already, and the air was biting; but anything was better than the stuffy warmth of the buildings.

He sat there for a few long minutes without moving, gazing sightlessly out into the dusk, thinking over the events of the day.

At heart, he was just_tired_. The few hours of sleep he was grabbing weren't enough by a long shot, and having to get up early and give a hundred and ten percent every day wasn't helping. And everything was such a strain, as well; keeping up the deception in front of his classmates was exhausting, remembering to react the right way when he was spoken to, being careful with his words - it was like he was on one of his longest, most complex missions were everything was being watched and analysed, and although if he failed it wouldn't be the end of the world (not like normal), it would be the end of_his_ world.

He'd been wrong to trust Tom, he thought calmly. It wasn't fair to lay that on his friend, and it was even less fair to expect himself to get over the inevitable betrayal. It was making everything that bit more tiring, that bit more difficult. It wasn't_fair_.

But if anyone knew that life wasn't fair, it was Alex.

Still in that state of almost unreal calm, he thought over the events of the day. Everything had been going fine until his combat training - with Hawk. Alex would give a great deal to know what the hell was wrong with Hawk, what he was supposed to have done to him, but since he didn't, he was just going to have to look over and assess his own actions without taking his opponent's into account.

He'd frightened himself with his reaction, and to a certain extent, he could understand MI6's worry over it. He hadn't been able to stop - hadn't recognised the rest of B-Unit, hadn't been able to jerk himself out of the fight-or-flight reaction until Jackal had yelled at him. And god, he'd nearly killed Hawk - he'd been_trying_ to kill Hawk. He'd been so riled up by him, he hadn't thought about it, and losing control like that was just - completely unacceptable. He was an experienced operative, not a sulky, spoilt teenager, no matter how much he might want the luxury of being one sometimes.

It was with a jolt that he realised he was actually ashamed of himself for it. It was odd; he wasn't supposed to be_ashamed_ of himself. He'd never wanted to be any kind of spy, had had it forced on him, and yet he was still ashamed of himself for acting in a way so completely at-odds with the calm control he was supposed to exercise. He was ashamed of himself.

Alex was so lost in his thoughts that for once he didn't notice someone else was with him on the little porch until Hawk stepped on a squeaking floorboard, when he looked up sharply.

Hawk looked a mess. He'd obviously come straight from the infirmary - a faint smell of antiseptic still hung round him - and his nose was taped, evidently broken. In the dim light, Alex could see the bruising around his eyes and nose, his uniform on haphazardly and his hair still stood at every which-way.

He stood quickly, "Hawk."

"You fucking _brat_," Hawk spat at him, "I don't know whether to be furious you used your filthy assassin tricks against me or happy that I was fucking well _right_."

Alex paused, "Look, Hawk," he said slowly, "I'm really sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have - have lost it like that."

"You're just sorry you got into trouble about it." Hawk snapped, "I _know_ people like you - not so brave when someone stands up to you, are you?"

He forced himself to stay calm; getting angry was what got him into trouble in the first place. "I didn't mean to-"

"That's not going to wash with me," Hawk shook his head, his expression contorted with anger, "You don't get to play innocent any more."

"I'm not trying to-" In his defence, Alex had been half expecting the blow Hawk landed on his face, and his only outward reaction was to put up a rather half-hearted block, expression almost resigned. "Look, really, I'm sorry," he tried again, "I was never taught to - to reign in my-"

"Then you'd better bloody well learn!" Hawk hissed, but thankfully made no move to hit him again; with his head aching the way it was, Alex didn't think he could have stayed upright for it. And it was going to be a stretch, explaining yet another bruise to his classmates. Perhaps he could just say he hadn't noticed it?

"Yeah," he agreed finally, too tired to argue anymore, "I'll learn."

Hawk frowned suspiciously, "Don't think you can fob me off with-"

"I'm not fobbing anyone off with anything," Alex snapped, fed up with the entire thing, "I'm sorry I broke your nose, I shouldn't have lost my temper like that, not with all the things I can do - but I did. I don't know why the hell you hate me so much, but if beating the hell out of me helps you feel better, by all means, knock yourself out. Or me out, whatever floats your boat. But_don't_ stand there lecturing at me, I'm fed up of listening to you."

Hawk's eyes narrowed, "You smug bastard," he said, "You think you can-"

"I said, don't," Alex said sharply. "Move out the way, I've got somewhere to be."

He left Hawk there without looking back.

* * *

He made his way up to K-Unit's barracks, his head pounding even worse than before; Hawk's punch to the face had undone any of the good the painkillers might have done, and by the time he got to their door, he was starting to feel really horrible. Two or three really deep breaths kept him upright, but it was a hard-fought battle.

An assignment, he thought muzzily, think of it as an assignment, and keep going, dammit.

Eagle greeted him with a grin as he walked in, "Cub!" the friendly greeting both surprised him and bored straight through his skull. "Jesus, kid, you look_terrible_."

"Charming as always," Alex managed to snark back. "You're no oil painting yourself."

Eagle allowed himself to be distracted, though the worried furrow on his forehead didn't disappear. "Have a seat," he all but shoved Alex onto the nearest bed. Fox and Wolf were talking about something in low, intense voices, apparently the stealth version of an argument, and Snake was reading, shooting Alex a small smile. It didn't last long.

"You know, Cub, Eagle really wasn't lying," he said, smile melting into a frown. "You really do look like shit. What have you been doing to yourself?"

After the events of the day, his head pounding and his last meeting with Hawk still firmly at the front of his mind, Alex really was in no mood to deal with any of this. "Combat training," he said shortly, in absolutely no mood to hash all of this out over again.

Snake, who had been pushing himself off his bed to come over, stopped. "Well..." he said, sounding surprised at Alex's tone. "I guess you've - er - been seen to?"

Alex was just relieved his laugh didn't sound hysterical. "Yeah, you could say," he agreed, and Snake thankfully let it drop.

"So, we're going to work out how to stop your classmates being so suspicious," Eagle said, his eyes concerned as he looked at Alex even though his voice was light, "Just as soon as Wolf and Fox get off their arses."

Snake muttered something which sounded suspiciously like 'and their heads out of them', but Alex pretended not to hear it. He didn't want to get mixed up in yet another unit argument.

"Oy, you two!" Eagle called over, "Didn't your parents ever tell you that it's rude to ignore company?"

Wolf flicked him off without even looking up at him, but Fox stood up, stretching luxuriously, his back cracking. "Sorry, Cub; got distracted."

"Fox, we've got-"

"To get this sorted, you're right." Alex was taken aback by Fox's voice - suddenly firm and cool. He'd never heard any of K-Unit interrupt to Wolf like that. "So, we heard about your stunt with Hawk this afternoon."

"Fox, shut up," Eagle snapped - another surprise. Calm, easy-going Eagle, sounding like that without the other kids around to convince? "We talked about this."

"I don't think I was there for this talk," Fox said, still sounding cold, "The one I was at, Wolf talked and we all listened."

"We all _agreed_," Snake said, matching Fox for coolness.

"What did you all agree?" Alex asked, suddenly feeling cold himself. "It's probably better to talk about it rather than bottling it up, right?"

Eagle shook his head, "You're good, Cub, but you're SIS, not SAS - and you're not a full part of this unit. It's not up to us to reprimand you." He was talking to Alex, but his eyes were fixed on Fox.

"If that's all you want to do," Alex said, looking back at Fox and trying to ignore his still-pounding head, "You don't need to bother. MI6 send someone down to talk to me. You didn't think my guardian actually rang me, did you?"

Fox was the first to look away, "B-Unit's going through some real crap at the moment, the last thing Hawk needs is you making things worse."

Alex frowned, cocking his head, "I don't know how you think_I_ could possibly make things worse," he said slowly, "I'm half his size and more than half his age-"

"And you still managed to put him in the infirmary," Fox began, but Wolf interrupted.

"Fox, enough," he said sharply. "You haven't heard anyone else's side of the story - and even if you _had_, it _still_ wouldn't be up to you to reprimand Cub. So unless you want a formal reprimand yourself, I would _shut the hell up_."

Fox looked mutinous, but subsided, and Alex didn't know what to say which could make things better. Fox had evidently heard a one-sided version of the affair from B-Unit, but Alex wasn't honestly sure that telling his side of the story would make things any better; instead, he settled for a blanket apology, "I know you lot worked together," he said quietly, "I'm sorry for what happened with Hawk."

Fox sat heavily back onto his bed, dragging a hand over his face. "Yeah." he nodded without looking up. "Sorry, it's not my place to whale on you."

"Right, let's get on with this," Wolf said smartly, "We haven't got the time for any sideshow drama."

"Eagle said you're going to stop my classmates being suspicious," Alex said, slowly, "But - how?"

"When we say you're going to do something else because you couldn't keep up with the class, we're going to send some other kids with you," Snake said, "Not all the time, just - enough that they stop wondering what you're doing. And some of your punishment duties will actually_be_ punishment duty - cleaning the kitchens or whatever - and other kids will have them too."

Alex thought it through - surprisingly difficult at the moment - and tried to pretend that he hadn't noticed Fox watching him closely. "OK," he said, quietly, "So I guess I'll have to be even worse than normal, so I don't even seem up to_their_ standards?"

"Hopefully not," Wolf took over, "We're hoping that they'll be so horrified at being thought as bad as you," he allowed himself an ironical smile, "That they'll work twice as hard to get out of it again. If necessary, though, you will have to do appallingly badly. Think you can manage that, Cub?"

"With all the practice I'm getting, I can probably manage something," he sighed.

They went through the details of the plan in about half an hour, deciding what Alex should have been doing whilst his class were doing their various activities - the paintballing, among other things, and what his punishment duties should have included up until now. Once it was sorted, Wolf leant forwards and looked down at the floor.

"Look, Cub - about Hawk." Alex forced himself to stay relaxed, "He's got some - real problems. We can't tell you what, but... don't antagonise him, OK? As you can see," Wolf gestured vaguely, glancing at the purple bruise on Alex's jaw, "It won't end well."

Alex swallowed his protest that he hadn't done anything to antagonise Hawk, knowing that he wouldn't be able to explain things sufficiently and that there were times when it was, frankly, better not to bother trying. "Yeah, got you."

"OK, good!" Wolf looked relieved, and even though Fox shook his head, dissatisfied by the entire thing, the rest of the unit ignored him. "We've had some thoughts about how to back up the training we're trying to give your class with the paintballing exercise, to put the strategy lessons into practice, and we'd like to test it on you, if that's OK..."

* * *

An hour later, his head thumping worse than ever, Alex stumbled out of the barracks, heading back down to his own. The bruise Hawk had given him earlier that evening had thankfully just melded in with the one he'd got in his first session of combat training with D-Unit, making it bigger and darker but not an entirely new injury to have to explain, but it had really worsened his headache and he was actually considering going to the infirmary to get some painkillers from them.

Maybe in the morning.

The night exercise set for the rest of his class evidently hadn't been too long, since all the other boys were back in the barracks, but it seemed to have been tiring - all of them were in bed. There were some conversations going on, but nothing much, and only a couple of people could be bothered to make snide remarks about Alex getting off lightly.

Alex thought of his pounding head and bruises, and said nothing in reply, collecting his pyjamas in silence and heading for the showers.

* * *

Tom would have been the first to admit that he was shattered after the 'night exercise' the eight men had put them through that night - and he took back every horrible thing he'd ever thought about K-Unit. The two units who'd taken them for tonight's fun were far, far worse. They'd been taken to a point about four miles away from where the camp, dropped off and told to make their way back to their barracks, in their groups, without being seen, and it was surprising how stressful it had been. The stress, combined with the four mile hike in the dark, had left Tom every bit as wrung out and exhausted as his classmates, but he stubbornly waited up for Alex anyway. Tom might have had four miles in the dark, but Alex had had punishment duty four-on-one with their unit of soldiers. Surely, nothing could be more wearing than that.

His one-man vigil for his friend had given him plenty of time to think over the things Alex had told him. Particularly about his 'combat training' - and what kind of a name for it was that? Beating Alex up in the name of training him, and then getting at him for getting hit during it - it was_sick_. And sending him over and over and over the assault course was hardly much better.

The way Tom saw it, he had a week to make sure Alex didn't end up having to fight twenty men all but on his own. Not only would it mean that Alex wasn't having to take all the strain on himself, but it would also mean that he wouldn't be completely revealed: there was only so much skill that a black belt in karate could explain.

He squared his shoulders. A week - he could do that.

When Alex got back, Tom met him as he came back out of the barracks, pyjamas in one hand, towel in the other. Neither of them said anything, but fell in with each other, heading for the showers.

"How were your duties?" Tom ventured, after a minute or so of silence.

"Not bad," Alex murmured, keeping his voice very low and quiet, "Bit tiring."

Tom shivered, "Yeah, I bet." He didn't want to know how 'tiring' two hours of quality time with a unit of the SAS could be. "Makes our night exercise look like a country walk."

"Yeah, what was your exercise?"

"Nothing exciting," Tom said, "Some night time navigation and a four mile walk; I reckon it was just meant to tire us out so we don't cause too many problems tomorrow."

The glimmer of a grin. "Sounds pretty likely," he agreed. "They're sneaky bastards, this lot."

"Don't I know it," Tom agreed tiredly. But for all Tom's own tiredness, Alex looked at least three times worse; his skin was pallid and he looked - strangely haggard for a fourteen year old. "So," he scrabbled for a conversation starter, "What's in place for you to do tomorrow?"

Alex gave him a blank look. "Hmm? What do you mean?"

"Well, you're not doing light exercise with us, are you?" Tom asked carefully.

Alex let his eyes fall shut momentarily, and for just a second, a deep weariness settled on the contours of his face. "God, I hope I am," he said simply. Then he opened his eyes again, and shrugged, game-face firmly in place, "No one's said anything to the contrary."

Tom, shocked by Alex's unshielded moment, wondered briefly whether anything he'd seen of his friend this week had been much more than a carefully constructed mask. "Well then, you'll be with us." He said rather inanely, "It'll be nice for you to have a chance to unwind, right?"

Alex used their arrival at the shower to think over his response to that, but finally said, "It's not much of a chance to relax."

Tom glanced over at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"Do you have any idea," Alex said, his voice low and strangely urgent, "How difficult it is - how_tiring_ it is - to have to pretend to be useless all the time? The rest of our class takes thirty five minutes to get over the assault course, Tom, and when I'm not tired out of my mind, I can do it in under half that time. When I have to, on that stupid paintballing thing you're doing, I can take out the whole of our class without them even knowing I'm there,_and_ a unit of the SAS as well; I've used karate to fight off people whose names I can't even remember anymore - if I even knew them to start with. And I have to pretend like I couldn't climb over the assault course wall for love nor money and wouldn't know one end of a gun from another - and I've been_shot_, Tom, if anyone knows one end of a gun from another, it's me!" His voice was rising, high and desperate, and Tom just dithered, totally out of his depth, "Do you have any idea how - how_exhausting_ it is to have to pretend to be_that_ useless? All the time, no breaks, and no exceptions?!"

He paused, unsure of what to do, then shook his head and said quietly, "No, of course I have no idea, but," he resisted the urge to apologise for not knowing, it wasn't going to help, "At least - surely you don't have to pretend_all_ the time? When you go off for your - your one-on-one stuff?"

Alex nodded, visibly getting himself back under control. "No, you - I-I... yeah. But it's just as tiring having to be so - calm and in control with the SAS. I can_never_ make a mistake or lose it, and I don't think I can do it much longer." he paused, his voice very soft, "I really - lost it today. During combat training."

Tom wanted to shiver - the thought of Alex, calm careful Alex, losing it was strangely frightening. For years, his friend had been just another teenager like him, and then suddenly he was someone frightening and alien - but Tom wasn't going to make Alex feel any worse about himself than he already did. And it wasn't like Alex would ever miss it if he showed any outward sign of his discomfort. "What happened?" he asked instead, buying himself time to process his reaction.

"One of the soldiers in the unit who was training me," Tom couldn't stop the way his mouth twisted at that; Alex's 'training' was like nothing he'd ever heard of, "He has some, some issues, and he was taking them out on me. And I - snapped."

"And...?"

"I put him in the infirmary." Alex's voice was low and flat, one hand gripping his towel tightly before he forced his hands to relax and hang it up on one of the hooks by the door.

Tom swallowed, then said quietly, "I guess... I mean, I don't know anything, right, but I guess - he was the adult who should have known better, and you-"

"I've been trained how to do this stuff, I shouldn't act like a - like a-"

"Like a teenager, Alex?" Tom asked pointedly, "Why the hell shouldn't you? Would you expect_me_ to know better just because I'd been sent to some karate classes?"

Alex's eyes, when he looked at him, were dark and confused. "_No_, but-"

"But_what_?!"

It was Alex's turn to look away and swallow, "I don't feel like a teenager anymore."

"You've got six more years of it yet," Tom attempted a joke, and though Alex smiled, they could both feel how flat it fell. "Al, if they can't see that you're a teenager, not some sort of..._weapon_... that makes them stupid, it doesn't mean there's something wrong with you."

"Until this thing with our class is over, I have to be a weapon," Alex pointed out in little more than a murmur.

"I don't give a damn about our class!" Tom retorted fiercely.

"Don't be silly," Alex said, giving him a look far older than he was, "If they died you'd care quick enough."

"I'd care more if it was you," Tom pointed out, "You've been my best friend for years."

Alex's face cracked into a smile, "Thanks," he said simply.

"And, y'know, Al," Tom cleared his throat, deeply awkward, "I - you don't have to pretend around me."

Alex's smile strengthened a bit. "Yeah. Thanks, mate."

They stripped off in silence, Alex pulling his T-shirt over his head, and turning away - but not before Tom had seen the dull white scar tissue over his friend's heart. He swallowed hard, but that almost wasn't the worst part of the entire thing. The worst part was the purple bruise, spilt like an oil slick over Alex's stomach, dark and sore; the angry blue of a new bruise vivid on the right-hand side of his chest, the two most obvious bruises on a chest and back liberally covered with them, all relatively new. If Tom had thought the two bruises on Alex's face looked bad, it was nothing on the rest of him.

Combat training, his arse. No one was sick enough to think that bruising a kid up like that would actually_help_ him.

They showered in near silence, Tom uncomfortable breaking the silence, and Alex too shattered even to notice it. There was an emotional blankness to Alex after his earlier outbreak, an exhaustion which ran deeper than Tom had first thought, and though he didn't understand it, he didn't want to risk ignoring it.

He was going to have to do something.

* * *

Tom lay awake for a good chunk of the night, relieved that they were due to have an extra hour of sleep, and feeling guilty that Alex probably wasn't afforded that luxury. He wasn't entirely sure what he could do about making Alex's life a bit easier - at least making the SAS ease up on his ridiculous combat training; and how could one fourteen year old make the_SAS_ ease up on anything!?

Finally, he dropped off, a plan decided on. It wasn't good, it wasn't foolproof - it wasn't something Alex might have been able to come up with - but so long as it worked, Tom found he didn't care. And if it didn't work, dammit, he'd come up with something else which did.

* * *

Alex jerked awake the next morning feeling worse than he had that night, when he hadn't even thought that was possible. He felt like death warmed over, and panicked momentarily that he'd overslept - when he hadn't even meant to fall asleep! - and missed his time at the shooting range, but a quick check of his watch proved him wrong; five thirty. An hour before he had to be there.

He let his head thump back onto the pillow, and tried to stop himself moaning in pain; sudden movement was evidently a mistake. For a moment, he just lay there, the slowly and painstakingly, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and eased his way upright; the blood pounded angrily in his head for a long moment... then slowly (god, so slowly) subsided down to a manageable level.

He felt _terrible_.

All the same, he pulled himself into his combats and boots, standing gingerly and beginning the trek back down to the shooting range; at the rate he was moving at the moment, it was going to take him at least twice as long as usual.

Eagle was waiting for him, and offered him a quiet smile. "You OK, Cub?"

Alex smiled back gingerly, and lied through his teeth. "Not bad, thanks. You?"

"Yeah, OK."

"Which unit am I shooting with today?" Alex asked, watching as Eagle fell into his very slow pace.

"No one," Eagle quirked a grin at him, "You'll be shooting against me. I've been looking forward to having a chance to take you on."

"Bloody brilliant," Alex muttered. "Can't wait."

"What was that, Cub?"

Alex said nothing.

Unsurprisingly, he shot abysmally for the entire hour - Eagle ran circles round him.

"Are you humouring me?" he asked, frowning in honest confusion. "I mean, I didn't expect you to beat me every single time, but losing this badly all the time? Is this a joke, Cub?"

Alex, who was finding seeing straight a little difficult, gave him a half hearted glare, "Oh, you can fuck right off," he muttered to himself, but just shrugged at Eagle. "I dunno, just tired I guess," he said quietly.

"Mm. Well, try and perk up, I guess." Eagle said, looking a little doubtful. "You - I mean, someone_did_ check you over after that fight you got into with Bear, right?"

Alex shrugged noncommittally, and tried to think of someway to distract his erstwhile team mate. "'Perk up'?" he said, finally, "Seriously - 'perk up'?"

"Oh, shut up, Cub."

* * *

With Tom's help, Alex survived the next few hours without too much trauma; he hadn't been able to eat anything at breakfast, playing with the horrible powdery scrambled eggs and unable to even look at the burnt toast without wanting to be sick, but the sit-down sessions scheduled for the morning were alright. They were taught some more basic first aid, and Alex, thankfully, was excused from demonstrating any of the exercises - and though Wolf said, "We don't want you killing anyone with your useless attempts", Alex saw the way his eyes flickered as he looked at him, and remembered that K-Unit at least knew about his bullet wound.

Tom stuck closely by him, and so, to Alex's surprise, did Ben and Charlotte, talking loudly enough that Alex barely heard Will Hartford and Joe Radcliffe's snide comments about his rather blank appearance. At lunch time, though, he excused himself, saying he was shattered and was going to go and have a lie down instead of eating - he wasn't that hungry anyway. He managed to shake Tom off by giving him a significant look which he knew his friend would interpret as Alex having some of his 'private' lessons to go to; he didn't like to lie to his friend, but felt instinctively that a lie which Tom had to tell himself was better than one which Alex told him outright.

In reality, he didn't dare sleep, but he couldn't face having to keep up appearances in front of his classmates any longer. His head honestly felt like it was slowly killing him, a long, slow throb at the back of his skull dominating everything, and just the thought of food was enough to make his stomach turn. It was a nice enough day, for an English March - he'd go back to the little porch on the front of the barracks, and grab some private time; perhaps that would give him the time to regroup a bit.

* * *

Hawk had been having a terrible morning. Firstly, he'd been woken by the pain in his nose, which was surprisingly sore - and not even the satisfaction knowing that he'd been proved right about the little Scorpia brat could make him feel better about the way his nose hurt. He wasn't exactly a stranger to pain, but that didn't mean he was happy about it, especially not pain caused by a teenager from Scorpia. And then, giving up sleep as a bad cause, he'd got up and seen Eagle chatting, apparently amiably, to the hellspawn! It felt like betrayal of the worst kind - he'd always got on well with Eagle, and K-Unit's apparent fostering of the kid was not pleasant to stomach.

But if he'd felt angry and out of sorts early that morning, he felt far worse a few hours later.

Firmly off anything even approaching active duty - even teaching the newer recruits was out for the moment - he was just coming out of the infirmary after a check up when a group of the brats Rider had arrived with headed past him, towards the mess hall. They were giggling about something or other as usual, but then one of them piped up, clearer voiced than the others,

"And did you see his _face_? I know he's just a clumsy idiot, but if I didn't, I'd think the soldiers really were smacking him around! Will's said _he_ wants to enough times."

"Will's all talk," another of the girls said, with a giggle, "And I think all those bruises just make Alex look dangerous, you know? And he's gorgeous anyway; whatever he's been doing while he's off school, it's made him _so_ hot."

A tall, blonde one just scoffed, "Rider's a loser. Good looking, but _god_, he's such a _freak_. I heard he's the one who blew up our science schools back in October."

"I don't know, I heard he was in Hong Kong then..."

"I heard he was in _prison_, and someone paid Mr. Bray to keep him on-"

They headed out of earshot, and Hawk found he'd clenched his hands into fists. They were so -_young_. Barely even teenagers, worrying about good looking boys and gossip and going out with the right sort of person... and Rider was the same age as them. The kid he'd hit.

He'd been angry yesterday when they'd fought, and Rider had given as good as he'd got - better in fact, Hawk conceded ruefully - but last night, Hawk had sought him out in cold blood and hit him. A _child_. And Rider had just taken it- given him free range to do it again.

It didn't even matter that Rider was part of Scorpia - and if he'd been at that school since before last October, that was looking somewhat less likely - because no matter what Rider had done for them, the filthy torturing bastards, acting like him didn't make Hawk better. Beating on a kid made him _worse_, preying on someone he knew was weaker than him. It was perfectly possible, he suddenly found, realisation catching up a few hours too late, to hate the Scorpia operative Rider had been and yet want to apologise to the child he, Hawk, had so deliberately hurt.

Suddenly, Hawk felt sick, half-confused by his own thoughts and horrified by what he'd done.

Hitting children made him one of the worst kind of people. No matter how much he hated the operative, he had to talk to the kid.

That was easier said than done, however; he couldn't exactly just yank the boy out of the stupid activities they had planned for the other brats, and he couldn't be seen approaching the boy when any of the other soldiers were around. He wasn't supposed to get near him at all, after all.

He seized his moment when he saw the boy heading away from his little group of three friends - quieter than most of the other little monsters - and followed him back to the large barracks they'd put the boys of the group in. For a minute or two, he dithered, unsure of what to do or say, then swallowed, reminded himself he was a member of the SAS, not some wimp frightened of confrontation.

So he stepped forwards.

His first thought was that Rider looked like hell. His face was thin and horribly bruised - a less-than-pleasant reminder - his skin was waxy and his eyes were worryingly glazed. Worst, the boy gave him a hopeless look, and it was all too clear he had strong expectations for what was coming next. A far cry from the healthy, _happy_ kids from earlier.

The vicious part of Hawk's mind - presumably the part which had been in control last night, and this was probably what schizophrenia looked like, he thought rather hysterically - couldn't help but think the little bastard deserved it. If anyone deserved to be miserable and unhealthy, it was someone who worked for Scorpia.

But no fourteen year old should ever, ever look like that.

Hawk swallowed and fought the urge to wipe his palms on his trousers - what was he supposed to say? Start with the basics, evidently. "Rider- er, Cub." That was the codename he'd been given, right? And if he _wasn't_ from Scorpia... why the codename?

The boy gave him a wary nod. "Hawk."

"I-" He broke off, took a deep breath, and said carefully, "I'd like to apologise for - hitting you last night." And those words were far harder to say than he'd have liked; he ended up almost spitting them out. Apologising to part of the group who'd hurt them so badly went viciously against the grain.

That shook the boy's impressive calm a little. "You - would?" he frowned.

"Yeah." Hawk bit his lip and took a deep breath, trying not to take offence at the boy's rather dismissive reply. He was here to apologise to the boy, not pick another fight with an enemy operative. He just had to remember that. "I mean, it's one of the things they always say, you know? Don't hit women and kids, and hitting you was... well. Not good."

The boy actually chuckled at that, though he didn't sound amused and kept himself strangely still. "Yeah, I'll say," he agreed. His tone wasn't exactly encouraging, but Hawk seized on the slight thaw in his manner; anything which would help him see the _child_ in this boy, and not the member of Scorpia.

"Look - I still don't know what to think of you, you - you don't make _sense_, and the things you've done-" He broke off, before he could get himself angry again with the thought of the things Rider would have done with and for Scorpia, "But I shouldn't have hit you like that."

"No, you shouldn't," Rider agreed, and Hawk gritted his teeth, only to be surprised by the boy's next words, "But I shouldn't have lost control like that at you. I guess we're even."

"Maybe," Hawk said slowly - Rider _had_ put him in the infirmary, after all, but hitting a child was far more morally dubious than loosing your cool with someone who'd been spoiling for a fight for a week, "I'm twice your size, me beating on you is _sick_."

Rider raised an eyebrow, "Don't crucify yourself," he said coolly, and Hawk had real difficulty remembering that this boy was the same age as the silly, giggling teenagers he'd been listening to just that morning, even as his cut-out image of a Scorpia operative began to slip slowly away, "I'm not the same size as you, true, but I'm still plenty dangerous. Which is why me losing control at you is worse than you hitting me."

"You're a teenager," Hawk argued, as much to remind himself as to remind the boy, "You're not supposed to be a model of control."

Rider's lips twitched, but Hawk didn't understand the joke. God, this child was frustrating. "Doesn't mean I shouldn't be anyway," he said quietly, "Look, Hawk, I don't pretend to understand what your problem is with me, and I don't know why you're so worked up with my involvement with Scorpia, but I think you've got enough issues without adding me to the pile. Don't - ah - beat yourself up over this."

Hawk frowned - a week of outright animosity wasn't so easily dispelled, after all - but allowed himself, unwillingly, to simply take that at face value. "I should be reassuring _you_, shouldn't I?" he said slowly, hoping (knowing?) that Rider wouldn't take him up on that. He hadn't forgiven the boy anywhere near enough to start freaking _comforting_ him. "I mean, you're the teenager."

Rider gave him an odd smile at that. "You already know I'm no ordinary teenager," he said simply, an unpleasant reminder for Hawk of just how they'd ended up in this situation in the first place. "Anything else you wanted to say?"

Hawk was torn between relief that the ordeal was over - that honour was satisfied - and confusion over how it went. Really, what had just happened? "No," he shook his head finally, "That's it."

"OK. See you around, Hawk." And with that, the boy simply turned and went into the barracks.

Hawk stood on the tiny porch for a moment longer, then shook his head again and turned away. If there was one thing he didn't want, it was to see this boy around.

* * *

Alex leant back against the barracks door before letting himself slide down to the floor. He'd been telling the absolute truth when he talked to Tom about it; maintaining the two masks for his class and for the soldiers was absolutely exhausting, and he was absolutely wrung out by the day so far. If he thought he could get away with it, he'd curl up in bed and just go to sleep, right now - but he knew he wouldn't. A few minutes of peace and quiet was the most he could hope for; but he was going to make the most of it while he had it.

* * *

Back at the mess hall, Tom ate very lightly, keeping one eye on K-Unit and listening to the conversation Ben and Charlotte were trying to engage him in with less than one ear; he had to time this right, or it wouldn't work at all.

The moment he saw the soldier called Snake get up, he shot out of his seat, giving Ben and Charlotte the most tenuous of excuses, dumping his tray and hurrying after him. He'd chosen Snake because he seemed the least likely to snap at him, and the most likely to actually _listen_; he was pretty much the only one of the group who had never snapped at one of the kids or been overly nasty to them. Since it was imperative that Tom was heard, Snake had seemed like a good bet.

Now, faced with actually having to talk to him, Tom wasn't sure _any_ of the intimidating soldiers would have seemed like 'good bets'. But the likelihood that he was going to get another opportunity for this - without Alex around to get suspicious, or any of his other classmates around to overhear. Time to seize the moment.

"Excuse me?" he called after the soldier, and he turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised.

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah. Um, yes." For a moment, Tom paused, gathering his thoughts; Snake's cool grey eyes were a little disconcerting. "It's about Alex."

"Alex?"

"Um, Alex Rider?"

That cool gaze sharpened. "What about him?"

"It's OK," Tom said quickly, "I know all about him, that's not what I want to talk to you about-"

"You - know all about him?" Snake was frowning, but Tom, impatient, waved it aside.

"Yes, that's not the problem." He glanced behind him. "Look, I really need- I don't know if..." he paused. "This isn't the best place to have this conversation." He said finally, rather formally.

Snake simply raised one eyebrow again. "I wasn't aware we were having a conversation," he said, and, irrelevantly, Tom noticed the slight Scottish burr to his voice for first time.

He didn't dwell on it. "Well, we're going to be," He said firmly, too irritated by the man's prevarication to be nervous of him any longer. "And unless you want the rest of my class listening to it, I don't think you'll want to have it here."

Tom was a little impressed by his own daring, but Snake just nodded. "Alright then." he led him round the back of the kitchens, into the storage area where they kept the bins, and turned back to him. "What is it, then?"

"It's Alex," Tom said, speaking very quickly, "He - Look, I know you're calling it 'combat training' or whatever, but what you're doing to him, it's - it's really hurting him, OK? And I get that you're- whatever, teaching him the hard way, but you've _got_ to give him the chance to heal, OK? He can't do anything if he can hardly move."

Snake was frowning. "Kid, I don't know what you're talking about."

Tom's own voice began to rise, frustration and desperation forcing it up, "I don't - I _know_ I'm not supposed to know, OK? But it's just as well I do, because-"

"No, I _honestly_ don't know what the hell you're on about," Snake repeated firmly. "Cub's training sessions are just training, like you lot doing-"

"Bullshit," Tom said fiercely, too desperate to worry about swearing in front of one the intimidating SAS soldiers, "You can't tell me you get bruises like Alex's from _training_. And Alex doesn't lie and exaggerate things, if he says people are beating the hell out of him, then they _are_."

"We would have been told if Cub was injured," Snake said firmly.

"If anyone had thought to tell you," Tom said, a hint of scorn creeping into his voice, "If Alex had mentioned it - which he never would. I had to see it myself to know about it, and I've known Alex for _years_," Snake looked a little taken aback. "And he's not going to _tell_ you. You organised it, after all!"

Snake looked like he wanted to argue that point, but ignored it for the moment in favour of the more important issue at hand. "Well then, we would have noticed-"

"I doubt it," Tom pointed out, "If Alex doesn't want you noticing something, you're not going to. He's not a spy for nothing."

Snake acknowledged that point with silence, "His combat training was only supposed to be-" he broke off, realising just who he was explaining himself to. "I'll talk to Cub about it," he said quietly.

"Just give him time to heal," Tom said, the desperation sneaking back into his voice, "He's black and blue."

"Look, we'll deal with it, OK?" Snake said sharply, really losing his cool for the first time. "If Cub's being hurt, we'll do something about it."

Tom met his eyes for a long moment, then nodded simply. "OK then." He left Snake there, hoping fervently that he really had done the right thing. He really didn't want to have made Alex's life even harder.

He squared his shoulders. If he had, he'd damn well fix his mistakes as best he could - and maybe this camp lark had been good for something, because Tom felt he'd grown up by years in the last week, and that couldn't fail to be a bad thing. It would help Alex at least, and at the moment that was the important thing.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Alex left the relative safety of the barracks in favour of joining his class again, tagging onto the group at the back and letting Tom, Ben and Charlotte take him under their figurative wings again. He was too tired - and frankly too grateful - to get worked up about their rather protective attitude towards him; and although he had no idea why Ben and Charlotte were acting like this, he was more than willing to admit that it was nice to have people among his peers who would stick up for him.

"You OK, Al?" Tom asked, and Alex knew his friend was thinking of the bruises he'd seen last night; there had been an unhappy look in his eyes when Alex had so thoughtlessly stripped off his T-shirt in front of him.

"Yeah, thanks," he didn't nod as he lied - he didn't dare - and Tom looked a little unconvinced, but let it go - there wasn't much else he could do when they were surrounded by their classmates. Even Ben and Charlotte, sympathetic though they were, couldn't be told everything.

In all honesty, his brief moments of down time had just made him feel even worse; the lack of focus, not having to keep up that constant front, had made strengthening the mask again incredibly hard. He felt_terrible_. His head was spinning badly, blood pounding painfully hard behind his eyes, and the painkillers he'd taken that morning, and topped up just now, hadn't even touched it. Trooping through the camp with the rest of his class, less than one ear on his friends' conversation, he felt like death.

K-Unit let them up to the top of a large cliff, the other side of a man-made lake, and handed out a selection of too-big crash helmets - evidently, Alex assumed fuzzily, going on the principle that 'too big' was better than 'not at all' - and Wolf finally spoke up when they all had them on.

"OK, listen up," he said firmly, "This is supposed to be _fun_," one corner of his mouth twisted wryly, "But if any of you useless brats decide to piss about on this piece of equipment, it's the assault course again, for all of you. This is fun, not Thorpe bloody Park - not a joke or a ride. You won't die if you fall - the water will stop that - but it won't be a pleasant experience either. I'd recommend not doing it."

The group of children stared at the zip wire apprehensively.

"Won't we be strapped in?" Charlotte asked very quietly, and cringed a little as Fox chuckled without much humour.

"Where's the fun in that?" he drawled.

Snake was watching Alex carefully, but forced himself to look away as he started speaking. "Eagle and I will be waiting for you on the other side; Fox and Wolf will be here getting you ready to cross. If you hurt _anything_, you tell us and you'll go straight up the infirmary, that clear?" his eyes were back on Alex, though he glanced momentarily at Tom as he spoke. "We're not going to risk law suits here."

"Wouldn't it be a better idea to just not have us do this?" One of the quieter boys asked, and Wolf shrugged.

"We're hoping that the adrenaline rush will wear all of you out by tonight. Right!" Eagle and Snake left, heading back down the hell and round the lake to the other side where they would meet them coming off the zip wire, "You hold the bar firmly like this..."

It was fairly simple to grasp it, and once the first person had been bullied across - all but pushed off the edge by Wolf - and they could see that it was neither difficult nor particularly frightening, the class really started to get into it, waiting in a large group, each eager to be the next one to go. Alex hung back, hoping he would regain his sense of balance before having to swing across a lake - metres and metres of open space under his feet - clinging onto a metal bar.

Hartford, noticing his reticence, started to laugh. "What is it, Rider?" he mocked, "Scared?"

Alex didn't dare nod or shake his head, not with it hurting this badly, so he just shrugged. "I - really don't like heights," he said faintly.

"Aw, poor little baby," Hartford pressed his advantage gleefully, "Why don't you go next, Rider - get it over with, huh?"

He shoved Alex towards the platform, and Alex stumbled, hissing with pain as the sudden movement jarred his already badly aching head.

"Stop it, Hartford," Tom said, stepping forward with a glare, "Leave him alone."

"Sorry, Harris, I don't fight people under five foot," Will sneered.

Tom's fists clenched, but he kept his voice level as he replied, "And I normally try to not to beat up people under a certain IQ, but I'm willing to make an exception."

"As if _you_ could beat me," Hartford laughed nastily.

Tom didn't bother answering, something Hartford hadn't expected, going for the one manoeuvre he'd really mastered in his martial arts classes, and sinking one fist into Hartford's stomach with all his strength behind it; and Tom, although he was small, was mad on sport and no weakling. Then, while Hartford was doubled up and swearing, Tom grabbed his head, and brought it down on his knee. Alex would have broken the other boy's nose - Tom didn't have the experience to pull it off, missed his nose and split his lip instead. But it was enough, and he pressed his advantage as Hartford managed to straighten, kicking out with a sloppy sidekick; anyone with any training would have caught it, but Hartford had very little, and only managed a weak block. The punch he threw back at Tom, though, would have connected if Fox hadn't grabbed him by the back of his collar and yanked him backwards.

Keeping his grip on Will's collar, he strode round and grabbed Tom's as well. "We did _not_," he said, his voice grim, "Teach you how to fight so you could beat the shit out of each other, even if you _were_ doing it with all the skill of a pair of sandbags," he shook them briskly and firmly, like a dog with a rat, before letting them go. "Try anything like that again, and I'll bang your heads together, understand?"

Two sullen nods later, he let them go, and nodded. "Right, next!"

In the scuffle, though, Alex had ended up at the front of the group.

"Come on, Rider, don't be such a wimp," Wolf said, his voice hard, apparently not even noticing Alex's haggard appearance. "You'll be just fine."

"W- Sir..." Alex tried, his voice rather thready, "I'm really not feeling good..."

"Don't be stupid, Rider," Wolf snapped, "Get over."

He herded Alex to the edge, and handed him the bar, thrown back over the zip wire by Eagle. As he leant next to him, he muttered, "C'mon, Cub, none of your acting now - we just need to get all of your lot over."

Alex tried to say that he wasn't acting, and that if they made him go over, he didn't know whether he'd be able to hold up, but Wolf had checked his grip on the bar and given him a small but sturdy shove off the edge of the little platform.

The rush of adrenaline and blood to the head was too much for Alex's pounding head, and he could feel his grip on consciousness slipping at the same rate as his grip on the bar. Black spots danced in front of his vision, growing at an alarming rate...

He would never even remember hitting the water.

* * *

And there it is! I hope you enjoyed - do tell. :D

The thing with Hawk will be fully resolved next chapter, but this one got so long, I cut it off at a convenient stopping point, rather than have it drag on any longer! Cookies to anyone who guesses what's up with Hawk now.

More coming hopefully soon-ish!

-amitai xx


	12. Chapter 12

Too tired to be witty. Have work tomorrow. (headdesk) Suffice to say, bet no one was expecting to see this so quickly! But I was so overwhelmed by the response to last chapter, and the story was going so quickly, it didn't seem too hard to write. At a mere 8,893 words, it's a full half the size of last chapter, but there was less to get through. And the Hawk thing is finally revealed, and practically resolved now. Thank. God.

Huge hugs and thanks go to **Von **as always, bless her, since she puts up with my whining and smacks me when I get my first aid wrong. Parts of the chapter may change later when she has time after her study induced stupor and can smack me for all my glaring errors. I'm not happy with the last part of the chapter, but it's one in the morning, so I'm pretending that I've made a rational decision to post this rather than finishing it and thinking "Must. Post."

More thanks go to **weeping_angel** and **smokey2307** who bullied my nicely and politely into writing more, in that way that only friends can. (sigh) Never a peaceful moment...

DISCLAIMER: ALL FILTHY, FILTHY LIES. ALL OF IT.

_

* * *

"Come on, Rider, don't be such a wimp," Wolf said, his voice hard, apparently not even noticing Alex's haggard appearance. "You'll be just fine."_

_"W- Sir..." Alex tried, his voice rather thready, "I'm really not feeling good..."_

_"Don't be stupid, Rider," Wolf snapped, "Get over."_

_He herded Alex to the edge, and handed him the bar, thrown back over the zip wire by Eagle. As he leant next to him, he muttered, "C'mon, Cub, none of your acting now - we just need to get all of your lot over."_

_Alex tried to say that he wasn't acting, and that if they made him go over, he didn't know whether he'd be able to hold up, but Wolf had checked his grip on the bar and given him a small but sturdy shove off the edge of the little platform._

_The rush of adrenaline and blood to the head was too much for Alex's pounding head, and he could feel his grip on consciousness slipping at the same rate as his grip on the bar. Black spots danced in front of his vision, growing at an alarming rate..._

_He would never even remember hitting the water._

_**_

Tom was the only one who reacted immediately.

He wasn't anywhere near stupid enough to jump off the cliff after Alex, but he did stare for a moment before taking off back down the hill round to the other side of the lake, where there were no cliffs. Running was Tom's speciality, and he normally enjoyed the rush it gave him, but now he barely noticed it. Running was a means to an end.

K-Unit simply stared, and Wolf even took a moment to be annoyed at Cub's ill-timed show of incompetence; he'd thought Cub had more of a sense of timing than that.

"You'd better go and grab that kid before he does something stupid," he told Fox, who took off at a reluctant jog after Tom's sprinting figure. Wolf meanwhile stared down at the lake, frowning, his arms crossed.

He stared at the lake for nearly thirty seconds before he realised that Cub wasn't coming back up again.

Hartford, in the background, sniggered over Alex's sudden drop, making snide comments with his friends over how weak you had to be not to even be able to make it over a zip wire. Finally Charlotte, white-faced, turned to him and hissed,

"Shut up, what would you know about it?" Totally taken aback at being talked to by someone normally so silent, Hartford didn't reply, "I don't see_you_ being too eager to go over it."

"Yeah, well," he blustered, "Now we'll never know, will we? Now that Rider's fallen off, none of us will get to go over it."

Charlotte gave him a scornful look, her eyes hard, "I bet that was what you were_hoping_ would happen," she snapped, and turned away.

And though Hartford sputtered out denials, he was decidedly silent about Alex's fall after that.

* * *

On the other side of the zip wire, Eagle too had been a little taken aback by Alex's sudden drop, and Snake had sighed heavily,

"I thought Cub had better timing," he said, frowning just as hard as Wolf.

"That's the thing," Eagle said slowly, "He_does_."

They met each other's eyes briefly, and Eagle swore loudly, heading for the ladder which would take him down off the landing platform and onto the ground.

"That kid - his friend, whatever his name is - said he was hurt," Snake called after him, his own throat tightening, and Eagle looked back at him from the ladder.

"Oh,_perfect_," he snarled, and all but threw himself down to the ground.

The handful of children who'd already crossed were whispering to each other on the ground, faces a little wary - by now, it was all too obvious that Alex wasn't coming back on his own - but Eagle ignored them, taking a couple of moments to strip off his jacket and yank off his boots, before plunging into the lake.

The water was icy, but Eagle didn't bother giving himself the time to adjust, striking out towards the middle of the lake where Cub had fallen. That it was man-made was something to be thankful for - there was nothing flowing in or out of it, so there were no currents. Nor were there many weeds for Cub to get caught on; hopefully, it wouldn't be too difficult to find him.

Eagle didn't want to think of the consequences if it was.

The force with which Cub had hit the water had evidently forced him down a fair way, otherwise he would have bobbed up again by now, and knowing Cub's insane luck he'd either survive this without a scratch on him, or he'd have been caught on the one clump of weeds in the entire lake. Unwilling to trust to luck either way, Eagle swam out to the place Cub had disappeared under the water, and dived down.

Opening his eyes underwater was unpleasant, and in the murky green of the lake it was all but pointless anyway. Eagle swam down until his lungs felt like they were about to implode, then swam for the surface, gulping down three or four lungfuls of air and swimming down again.

There - a darker, murkier blob, already starting to float towards the surface. Eagle kicked out towards it, and slipped an arm around Cub's chest, under his arms, pulling him up towards the surface.

Cub was white, bruises standing out starkly on the wet pallor of his skin, blond hair wet-dark against his forehead, and he was also very unconscious. Eagle didn't allow himself the time to panic, cupping Cub's chin with one hand, both to keep his head above water and his airway open, and struck out for land.

The rest of the stupid brats in Cub's class tried to crowd round him as he dragged Cub out of the water and pulled him up, bridal-style, into his arms. Any one of his teammates and he'd have given them a fireman's lift, but Cub was so light, and they didn't know what was wrong with him - surely it was safer to hold him like this, however girly it looked.

It wasn't like Cub would notice, or even care; his head lolled back, eyes shut, totally limp in Eagle's hold.

Snake scattered the other kids with a glare and a few well-picked words, and took one look at Cub.

"Basic checks," he said shortly, before Eagle could simply disappear with the kid up to the infirmary, as he looked like he wanted to do. Checked, Eagle nodded, laying Cub down on the flattest part of the bank that he could see, his eyes worried. Leaning over the boy, he turned his cheek to Cub's mouth, feeling a faint brush of breath against his cheek and waiting for a few seconds for it to repeat before nodding.

"Definitely breathing. Shallow, but there," he confirmed, "And," he put his ear to the boy's chest, "Heart is definitely still beating - fast and uneven, but definitely beating."

While Eagle checked the kid's airway, Snake picked up one of Cub's wrists, finding the pulse with his forefinger, and nodding back at Eagle in agreement.

"Rider?" Eagle called firmly, checking for awareness, then muttered at Snake, "What the hell is his first name?"

"Alex, I think," he muttered back.

"Alex?" Eagle tried again, raising his voice a little, "Alex, if you can hear me, I want you to squeeze my hand, alright?" he picked up one of the boy's hands in his own, the teenager's looking ridiculously small in Eagle's enormous paw, "Alex? Can you hear me? Alex?" As they watched, blood – diluted and spreading fast through the water still dampening the boy's face – began to trickle from his nose.

Snake shook his head, frowning worriedly, and leant forwards, pinching the cartilage of Cub's ear between blunt nails. A weak twitch - full-bodied but minor for all that - was his only reaction.

"I'll check his pupils-" he started, but Eagle shook his head.

"No," he said shortly, "The kid's deeply unconscious, he needs the infirmary. I'm sure they'll check his pupils there."

"Getting attached, are we?" Snake muttered under his breath, reverting to sarcasm instead of showing how badly thrown he was by the whole situation. It was a defence mechanism Eagle knew well.

Now, though, he had no patience for it. "Now isn't the time, Snake," he said tightly, already turning away to make the trip up the infirmary.

"I'll radio ahead for you, make sure they know you're coming," Snake called after him, and Eagle spared him the briefest nod, breaking into a jog and not looking back.

* * *

He was only just out of sight of the Snake and the other kids when the short boy he vaguely recognised as spending a fair amount of time with Cub appeared at his side, face drawn with worry. "Is he OK?" he panted, slowing down from his sprint but keeping up with Eagle easily.

"Do I look like a medic to you?" Eagle snapped back. The boy shot him a shockingly vicious sideways look, and Eagle half-relented, "We'll keep you informed, go back to the rest of your class," he tried, but the boy shook his head. Strange, Eagle didn't remember him having this much backbone. Maybe he should have paid more attention to the brats.

"You didn't notice anything was wrong the first time, I'd rather stay with him myself," he said, totally uncowed by the glare Eagle gave him.

Eagle tuned it down into a frown. "Look - what's your name?" he asked, adjusting Cub in his arms.

"Tom."

"OK, then," he cleared his throat. "Look, I really need you to take a message to Wolf; I need you to tell him that - Alex hasn't regained consciousness, and I'll keep him informed." Anything to get rid of the brat.

Tom gave him a deeply mistrustful look, "That's just an excuse to get rid of me," he began, but Eagle snapped back,

"While Wolf is in charge of you brats, he has to know what's going on with them-"

"Pity he wasn't a bit more conscientious about that _before_ he sent Alex over that zip wire!" Tom said sharply.

"Alex should damn well have _told us_ that there was something wrong!" Cub's head bounced sickly in time with Eagle's angry, jerky stride, and he forced himself to calm down and run a little more smoothly.

"Don't you _dare_ blame this on Alex!" Tom cried angrily.

Eagle took a deep breath, jogging onwards in silence for a few moments. "Look," he said, as calmly as he could manage, "Wolf has to know, because he can authorise medical treatment for Alex," A barefaced lie, but there was no reason why this boy should know that; anything to get rid of him. "So just - go and get him, would you?"

"And then what do I do?" Tom asked, still frowning, "Hang around and wait for you not to tell me anything?"

"We'll let you visit," Eagle promised, but Tom shook his head immediately.

"No," he said firmly, "I don't trust you lot."

"Look, kid-"

"You didn't notice when he was about to pass out, and your stupid _team-mate_ made him go over that ridiculous zip wire-"

Eagle sighed inwardly; he agreed that that had been stupid, but there was no way he could admit that in front of one of the brats - united front, and all that. "We can't bend the rules for Cub any more than we already have!" he tried, but the boy interrupted him before he could elaborate on that.

"Bullshit!" he said desperately, panting a little harder by now, "If you can bend the rules for his combat training, or whatever you want to call it-"

A shiver totally unrelated to his wet clothes went down Eagle's spine. "I don't know what you're-"

"Fine, whatever you want to pretend about it now," Tom snapped, "But if Alex just - I don't know, passed out from _fear_ or whatever ," his voice dripped sarcasm, "People would think it was weirder if you _didn't_ let me see him."

"I never said anything about not letting you see him," Eagle said, deeply uncomfortable with this conversation; the kid seemed to have him blindsided at every turn, and he just wanted to end it, "And you're wasting time. If you actually want to help Alex, go and get Wolf!"

"I don't trust you-"

"And I don't care!" Eagle snapped, "Either go and get Wolf or get sent home, but stop bloody distracting me!"

The kid gave him one last backwards glare, and ran off again, leaving Eagle to concentrate on the boy he was carrying. Without having to worry about carrying on a conversation, Eagle upped his pace; the uphill run to the infirmary couldn't go fast enough.

* * *

It seemed to take a ridiculously long time to make the short trip to the infirmary, and by the time Eagle got there, Cub was looking, if possible, worse than he had when Eagle had first pulled him out of the lake. His skin was waxy, and his eyes moved restlessly under their lids, and Eagle racked his brains trying to think whether Cub had looked this bad before - because how could they not have noticed the kid looking quite so death-like?

Bereft of all animation, Cub looked terrible.

It was almost a relief to relinquish the kid to the medics already waiting for him at the infirmary. They spared only the minimum of time interrogating Eagle, getting the information from him that Snake hadn't had a chance to give him - "His heart rate was a bit uneven, possibly from being deprived of air, and he only showed a minimal reaction to pain," he managed before they put Cub on a gurney and whisked him away at a run, talking in low, fast voices

"Pupils uneven and unresponsive!" floated back to Eagle, and, impossibly, the pace increased from there, the medics talking urgently CAT scans and warding against hypothermia and possible surgery, all things which Eagle couldn't seem to process, and which worried him. For a few minutes, he stood in silence, cold and numb, dripping gently onto the infirmary's linoleum floor. He was finally jerked out of his reverie by one of the other medics.

"Unless you're here to be checked over as well," the man said, brusquely, "Go and get out of those things. We have more important things to worry about than you catching a cold."

Eagle came back to earth with a bump, jerking to look at him, and nodding quickly, "Of course. Yeah, I - of course," he agreed rather dazedly, turned, and made his way out of the infirmary.

Someone had screwed things up royally for Cub, and he had a horrible feeling that it might have been him.

* * *

When Wolf arrived at the infirmary, he was worried, and consequentially, he was angry.

They'd been summoned there, about half an hour after Eagle had disappeared with Cub and before he returned, by an intern from the infirmary who told them very clearly that they were needed 'for legal reasons', which seemed to reassure the rest of the brats. It did nothing to reassure Wolf, who knew that there were barely a handful of legal reasons for them to be at Cub's bedside - they weren't his guardians, they weren't in loco parentis, they couldn't authorise things for him, and if things went wrong for Cub and he died MI6 would just hush up his death anyway - and that what ones there were wouldn't require the whole of the unit to be there.

He dreaded to think what condition Cub had to be in for all of them to be so summarily summoned.

Wolf didn't like knowing that he'd misjudged so badly as to send Cub over the zip wire when the kid was ill, that he hadn't listened to the boy. They'd been so busy arguing over what had happened with Hawk, they hadn't worried about Cub's condition afterwards - despite seeing the livid bruise on his cheek. It should have been an easy link; Cub's_face_ was badly bruised, what else had been damaged? And now, he couldn't work out why they had never made the connection. They seemed to have gone the other way, assuming Cub looked bad because he had those two bruises on his face making him look worse than he was - they hadn't bothered to look past the drama of those facial bruises.

And really, what had been going on at these combat sessions anyway? Suddenly, dark hints were coming from everywhere - when they had handed control of the brats over to D-Unit, Wasp had made several pointed comments about them, evidently deeply unhappy with them, and Snake had looked so unhappy and uncomfortable at these hints, Wolf just knew there was a story there.

Fox and Snake were both as silent as their teamleader during their trip up to the infirmary, and it was only when they were stood in the white, sterile lobby area that Wolf finally broke the silence.

"Do you know what Cub's training sessions entail?" he asked Snake quietly, trying carefully not to look at his team mate in case Snake thought he was accusing him of something.

"Not really," Snake said, matching Wolf for quietness."But I know he - he's been hurt during them. That friend of his, he - I mean, he wanted to talk to me, after lunch. Said Cub had been beaten badly during his training sessions-"

"And you didn't _do_ anything?" Wolf demanded, abandoning impartiality.

"I was going to pull him aside after the zip wire," Snake explained, shame-faced, "There wasn't an opportunity before, not without it looking suspicious when all his classmates were watching him... I just figured there'd be time afterwards."

"You didn't think that maybe it would be a bad idea to send an injured child over a zip wire several metres up in the air?" Wolf's voice was acid.

"Stop it!" Fox snapped, "Apportioning blame isn't going to help Cub, and we need to be a proper unit to help him, not all fractured like B-Unit. We're _all_ guilty, OK? As far as I remember, Wolf, you were the one who pushed him off the platform, and_I_ was the one who all but accused him of beating on Hawk - what kind of unit does that make us?"

Snake shook his head, "I think we need to sort this out - _are_ we his unit or aren't we? Because all these mixed messages are confusing me. Cub is down as a member of K-Unit, we're notified when he's taken off active service, and yet we don't know anything about his medical condition, we don't even bother to check his training while he's actually on _our_ turf! Is he part of our unit or not? And if he _is_ - and god knows we've been expecting him to take an adult role in it," Fox flinched, "If we're his unit, why didn't we automatically believe in _him_ until we got proof to the contrary? Why did we let a member of our unit land in the infirmary without us having any idea of _why_?"

Wolf had many faults, but not being able to own up to them was not one of them. "Because we just assumed things about him," he said heavily, "We just didn't think we needed to ask - or that there was anything we needed to ask about."

"Monumentally bad move," Eagle said, back from his hasty change into dry clothes, striding towards them.

"I think we got that, Eagle, thanks," Wolf snapped.

Eagle held up his hands defensively, "Hey, don't snap at me!"

Wolf took a deep breath. "Sorry. Just - god, I can't _believe_ we fucked up like this."

Eagle waved it off. "No problem," It wasn't like they hadn't had spats over the last year of working together. They were a unit because they could get through them. "We all fucked up big time. It's these sessions we've been sending Cub off to..."

"We were just talking about them," Snake agreed, Fox markedly silent behind him. "We really don't know what was going on. I mean, we knew he was I mean, we knew he was being - trained how to fight groups... That's why D-Unit and B-Unit were sent off-"

"Why did we never _ask_?" Eagle groaned. "God - the kid's an_agent_, and he passed out going over a zip wire, one we already know he can go over. Something bad was happening, and we - fuck, he looks like shit, bruises everywhere, and we _'didn't think we needed to ask_'?"

"If things were so bad, why didn't he get medical treatment himself then?" Wolf asked, on the defensive.

"Because, lieutenant, he was bleeding into his brain," a cool voice came from the door leading into the main corridor of the infirmary. "The pressure on his brain must have been enormous; his pupils were unequal sizes and failed to respond to stimulus, and the CAT scan we performed showed the presence of a subdural hematoma - one of sufficient size to disrupt the neural pathways."

Wolf frowned. "In English?" he asked acidly.

"The boy has developed a bleed in the layer between the skull and the brain." The man said, without reacting to Wolf's brusque manner. "The pressure on the brain interrupted his normal thought patterns." When Wolf's blank stare didn't change, he sighed. "He wasn't thinking clearly." he explained, clear and careful. "He probably didn't consider medical attention; and even if he had done so, he was given no indication that he would find it on this base, was he?"

Fox bit his lip, and Eagle shook his head minutely. One of the doctor's eyebrows arched sardonically. "Hmm, thought not." A moment's uncomfortable silence. "Now, the boy is suffering from what we call a subacute subdural hematoma; less serious than an acute one, more worrying than a chronic hematoma, which will clear up by itself with no outside help."

"Will Cub's clear up on its own?" Fox asked, rather subdued.

The doctor gave what Wolf privately thought was a deeply unprofessional shrug. "Evidently, we're monitoring him closely. If the bleed gets any worse, we'll put a stent in to siphon off the blood and relieve the pressure on the brain - but the body is a great healer on its own. In young adults like Cub the veins heal very quickly, and it's likely that his have already started to do so - depending on how severe the blunt trauma to his head was. In which case, the blood will dissipate without outside interference."

"Wouldn't it be quicker to put this - stent in, and help Cub immediately?" Eagle asked.

"I'd rather not risk unnecessary neurosurgery, if it's all the same to you," The doctor said sardonically.

"Of course," Eagle said quickly; the doctor's cool disdain was even more uncomfortable than Wolf's biting sarcasm. "But - doctor, I would have thought a bang to the head would bring on concussion, not a- something this serious."

The doctor gave him a truly whitering look. "What, exactly, do you think a concussion is?" He asked acerbically, "A concussion is caused by blunt trama which damages the brain itself, sometimes causing it to bruise, causing bleeds in more serious cases - much the same as what has happened now."

"So... you're saying Cub has a specialised form of concussion?" Snake asked slowly.

The look the doctor favoured Snake with could have stripped paint, "I thought you were your unit's medic?" he asked, and Snake flushed, "But yes, essentially Cub has damaged the veins in the subdural layer protecting the brain; the bleed is there, rather than in the brain itself. The veins in the skull are not very strong, and if Cub was taking any blood thinners - even something as simple as aspirin or paracetomol - he will have been at higher risk. Given the position of his scar, I wouldn't be surprised to find that he was taking some kind of blood thinner, even just in painkiller form, to ease the strain on a recently-damaged heart." He paused. "Now, leaving the hematoma aside, Cub's other injuries worry me, particularly given how recently he must have been shot..."

"Other injuries?" Wolf pounced, "What other injuries?"

The doctor raised an eyebrow, very coolly. "Other injuries. Were you honestly unaware that your teammate was on the receiving end of a fairly thorough beating?"

Wolf swallowed. "Combat training," he managed hoarsely.

"And to think I thought training with live bullets was barbaric," the doctor said sarcastically. "The _child_ back there is bleeding into his brain, has a sprained arm and more pulled muscles than you could shake a stick at, and a worrying number of bruises - and you expect me to believe that came from _training_? Training about which you had no idea?"

A less collected person would have shuffled his feet or shifted awkwardly. Wolf straightened up, his face set in rigid lines. "We don't question orders," he said coldly.

The doctor's answering expression was equally cold. "It amazes me that they trust you people with guns," he said bitingly.

"Doctor - you said 'how recently he must have been shot'," Snake said slowly, interrupting before Wolf could pick a fight with the man, "Don't you know when he was shot? Doesn't his file tell you?"

"It might well - if SIS had seen fit to provide me with his file," the man said shortly. "The medical details his school forwarded are worse than useless; basic allergies and every 'illness' the boy has ever suffered, presumably from when he was yanked out of school to play spy." he gave them a cold little smile, "I asked_you_ to come in the misguided belief that, as his team, you would have some idea of the boy's medical condition. But of course - that wasn't part of your orders."

Eagle swallowed, and chose to ignore that little dig. "I - so, what are you going to do, since you, er, don't have any information?" he asked.

"I suppose we'll just have to wait until he wakes up and can tell us himself. Now, he's in one of the private rooms; it would probably be best if one of you were there at all times - it'd be best for him to wake up to at least a semblance of familiarity, and you're the best I've got," his expression said that he didn't think very much of his current resources. "He'll be fairly disorientated when he does wake - but he shouldn't be crowded, so just one at a time. Though I don't doubt that you'd all love to be here," he bit the words out sarcastically, "I'm sure you've got more valuable things to be doing."

"When_will_ he wake up?" Wolf asked quickly, before they could be dismissed as summarily as they had been summoned.

"When he feels like it, lieutenant. I have to get back to my patient."

* * *

They stared at each other in silence, before Snake swallowed and spoke up. "I'll sit with him for the moment," he offered dully.

"Wonderful," Wolf agreed, "How about you stay with him for a couple of hours, then one of us will come and relieve you?"

Snake nodded rather numbly, "Yeah, great. Could someone bring me a book or something to do? That'd be good."

"I'll bring something over," Fox volunteered, "Anything in particular you were wanting?"

"There'll be something on my bunk," Snake shrugged, turning to follow the doctor, "Anything should do."

He paused in the doorway, shocked by the sight of Cub - it took him a couple of minutes to move from the doorway into the half-comfortable hospital chair by the bed. Cub's hair was still rather damp and fluffed over the pillow, skin death-pale. Cub had never seemed particularly big, but the large, impersonal hospital bed made him look like an actual child for the first time. Out of the baggy, dehumanizing uniform, he suddenly looked very young and horribly fragile.

"God, he looks awful," Fox said, hushed, and Snake started. He hadn't realised that there was anyone in the room - or that he'd been staring at Cub for long enough for Fox to have gone to their barracks and come back again.

He sat back, accepting his book from Fox, and nodded, "Yeah. I can't believe we never saw it before."

"We didn't want to look, did we?" Fox asked, and clapped Snake's shoulder, "Eagle'll come and relieve you in an hour and a half or so."

"Yeah. Someone'd better talk to the rest of the class..."

"Wolf's doing it."

"God, poor little bastards." Snake said tiredly.

"They're not all Cub, Snake," Fox replied quietly, "Plenty of 'em are little shits. Have you seen the way they've been treating Cub?"

"Yeah - almost as badly as we have." He sighed, shaking his head, "But it didn't mean too much at the time... and we can't do anything about it anyway. That bit_works_. If they don't like him, they're not always asking after him."

"Poor bloody kid," Fox patted Cub's blanketed foot awkwardly. "Look, I'd better get back to the rest of the rabble - I'll see you in a bit, yeah?"

"Yeah." He didn't look up to see him go, and kept his eyes firmly on his book for the next two hours.

* * *

It was bad luck that Eagle arrived at the infirmary at the same time as B-Unit, who were apparently escorting Hawk for something or other. Eagle gave them a frigid nod, and proceeded to ignore them until Jackal spoke up.

"We're just here with Hawk, in case..." he trailed off in the face of Eagle's cold, level stare, but rallied quickly, "One of the doctors asked us to come up here about Cub, and we thought we should come too. Because - well, Hawk couldn't come alone - just in case the kid-"

"I think Hawk is much more dangerous to Cub than Cub could ever be to Hawk." Eagle all but snapped - the fact that Hawk looked pretty bad himself, nose taped and eyes bruised, registered but didn't change his opinion - and was shocked when Jackal laughed humourlessly.

"I wouldn't be too sure," he said quietly, "Remember, it was Hawk who had to be carried out of the room."

"And it's _Cub_ who's bleeding into his brain," Eagle spat back, giving Hawk a vicious glare, "Happy now?"

Hawk swallowed. "Jesus," he managed, "That bad?"

Eagle's laugh grated in his throat, "You'd have to talk to his doctor about it," he said, with a sarcasm which would have done the good doctor proud, "But it sounded pretty bad, yeah."

"I didn't - mean to-"

"Bullshit, of course you did." Eagle turned away, "None of us are squeaky clean in the way we treated Cub, but at least none of the rest of us beat the shit out of a fourteen year old."

"Eagle, for Christ's sake," Jackal snapped, "The kid might be part of your unit - _might_ - but you can't let this affect our working relationship-"

"No, and I won't," Eagle looked back at him, "I'm not going to let you get shot in the line of duty, or whatever. But whether or not Cub is part of our unit - which he is - your team-mate beat on a_child_, and right at this moment it's difficult not to be tempted to shoot him myself."

"There was a - misunderstanding." Bear said softly, "Unfortunate, but-"

"'Unfortunate'?" Eagle turned away, and Bear followed him, frowning. Apparently against his will, Hawk followed Bear. "Yes, I suppose that's one way of putting it."

"You can't-"

"_You_ can stop telling me what to do," Eagle snapped back, "You know, Hawk," he added conversationally, "This has done one thing. I stuck up for you in front of that kid, God help me, but I could never understand how you could be so bloody unprofessional about this whole thing. At least now, I have some idea; I'd like to beat hell out of _you_ right now."

If he'd expected a rise out of Hawk, he was disappointed. He'd stopped in the doorway of Cub's room - the first one past the swing doors into the main corridor of the infirmary - and Hawk staring over his shoulder at Cub in the bed, face ashen. Eagle glanced over at him, and swallowed - Cub really did look bad, lying there like that, hooked up to the IV. Snake was putting his book to one side, stretching and coming over, giving Hawk an unfriendly look of his own.

"Bear - Hawk. Cub's not available right now, so why don't you just fuck o-" he started, only to be interrupted by Hawk himself.

"Um, Snake-"

"Hawk, can't you tell when you're not-"

"What the hell is going on?" Cub's voice was slurred and confused, but instantly recognisable; Snake and Eagle wheeled round and both started talking at once.

"Cub! We didn't think you were going to wake up for a while yet-"

"Good to see you awake, kid-"

But Cub was looking at Hawk, and before Snake could repeat his order to get rid of the members of B-Unit, he started speaking.

"What're you doing here?" he asked quietly. Hawk stiffened, and Eagle tensed himself in preparation to deal with whatever was coming next, but Hawk took a deep breath and when he replied, his voice was firmly civil.

"Your doctor called us all here, find out what I did to you," he looked away, "And what, did you not have medical care at Scorpia?"

Cub shook his head, then winced, evidently regretting it. "Scorpia? They were too busy trying to kill me to patch me up."

Hawk stared. "I-"

"Enough," Snake said, in a voice so firm that everyone stopped. "Cub's been deeply unconscious for a couple of hours, he needs his doctor. And he_doesn't_ need to be answering questions all the time. Everyone,_out_. Eagle, go and find his doctor." He turned back round, "Cub, good to see you awake again. How're you feeling?"

Eagle herded his half of B-Unit out in front of him, and went to find the doctor, unable to suppress his smile as Cub sniped back, "I fell off a zip-wire - how do you_think_ I'm feeling?"

* * *

Alex came round feeling sore and tired and crotchety, but the pain he'd been dealing with for the past couple of days - particularly the pain in his head - was somehow numbed. There was an IV being fed into his arm, so presumably someone had him drugged up on that. That was nice, he thought hazily, and blinked a couple of times, trying to get his bearings. Only disconnected flashes of things were coming back to him, and he concentrated on them, trying to piece the puzzle together, rather than on the dispute he could hear going on in the doorway. That was unfortunate, of course, but somehow it hardly seemed important.

Strangely it was Hawk's face, ashen and remorseful though it was, which slotted everything back into place. Presumably he'd fallen unconscious - and he couldn't remember that bit at all, but he had to have passed out at some point, or he would have remembered getting here - but everything before that was startlingly clear. Tom fighting Hartford, Alex himself fighting Hawk, even Hawk's unwilling apology - all of it. That sorted out, he turned his attention to the dispute in his doorway.

"What the hell is going on?" he demanded. Direct was always best.

* * *

It was almost a disappointment to see Eagle force Hawk and Bear out in front of him, since it left him at the mercy of Snake and all his standard-care questions. Yes, Alex remembered what day it was, and_yes_, he remembered what his name was and who Snake was. He kept his answers short and polite after his first example of tetchiness, but it was a relief when the actual doctor arrived, a brisk, competent man, sympathy lurking at the corners of his mouth and understanding in the lines around his eyes.

"The fact that you've woken up on your own is a positive sign, Cub." A brief hesitation. "Would you prefer 'Cub' or 'Alex'?"

Alex considered this - he really wasn't sure. In fact, he wasn't sure that he'd ever considered there to be a difference between the two. "Whichever you find easiest," he said politely.

"Thank you," The doctor looked faintly taken aback at that, but continued without pause, "I'm your doctor, Dr. Manning - I'm a civilian aide to the SAS here at Brecon. Now, your condition - your other injuries are... serious, but not in any way dangerous, with the obvious exception of the scar on your chest. How recent was that?"

"It was a couple of months ago," Alex said, "And I've been given painkillers for them."

"And are you taking them?" The doctor asked carefully, noting the information down and asking the question without looking up at Alex.

"No," he admitted readily. "Not unless it gets very painful."

"Does it hurt often?"

"Less now. When it first happened, I was taking the pills every day."

"Mmm. And tell me, have you been taking any mild, over-the-counter painkillers recently - such as aspirin?"

Alex frowned and nodded, "Yes - I've had headaches."

The doctor noted it down, "Not sleeping well?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Alex huffed a humourless laugh, "Not much time for sleep."

"Hmm, I see."

"What do you 'see'?" Alex asked suspiciously.

"Alex, you have what we call a subdural hematoma, that is, a bleed in the layer of tissue inside the skull which protects the brain," the doctor explain, simplifying without patronising, "Yours is what we call a 'subacute' subdural hematoma - it's of medium severity, and now that you've woken up on your own and have the time for your body to repair itself, I'm relatively confident that it will clear up on its own."

Alex shook his head slowly, "I'm _bleeding_ into my brain?"

"Yes," Dr. Manning nodded, "We've got you on a mild form of liquid codeine to ease the pain - that's some headache you've been living with for the last day or so, am I right?"

Alex quirked an awkward smile, "Yeah," he agreed, "It's been pretty bad."

"Next time, talk to someone if the pain doesn't subside," Manning said kindly, "Much more sensible."

"I - didn't think," Alex began penitently, but Manning waved it off.

"I'm not surprised. Now, I've scheduled another scan for tomorrow afternoon, and if the hematoma hasn't started to go down, I'd like to put a stent in to drain the blood out - we can't get permission from your guardian, but if_you_ give your permission-"

"Jack wouldn't withhold her permission, and no one will find out if I die anyway," Alex said, tiredness and codeine making him franker than usual, "MI6 would cover it up."

Manning paused, then smiled, "Well, we'll try to make sure there's nothing for them to cover up. Now, as your doctor, I recommend rest and relaxation, so feel free to get rid of the idiots out there whenever you feel like it."

"Those idiots?"

"The soldiers," Manning's voice was very dry, "I suspect there are going to be an awful lot of apologies in your near future."

* * *

Out in the lobby, Hawk paced up and down, tetchier and more nervous than he had ever been before a battle, until Eagle snapped at him to, "Stay still, dammit, or get out!"

After that, he sat down, jigging one knee up and down relentlessly but silently, so no one could really complain.

Bear broke the silence, standing with a screech of the rubber-tipped chair-legs on the lino - and Snake didn't miss the way Hawk stood with him, almost at the same time as him. "We need to sort this out," he said shortly, "I'm going to head up to HQ, see what I can do."

"Yeah, push off, and take your unit with you," Eagle muttered under his breath, but Snake's glare stopped him from saying anything further.

"I'll come with you-" Hawk started, but Bear shook his head.

"You've got to talk to the doctor, remember?" he reminded him, "I'll be back in about fifteen minutes, I'll be _fine_. We're not in Morocco anymore."

The familiar angry, defiant look came into Hawk's eyes, but Bear met them squarely, shaking his head very slightly.

"Not right now, Hawk," he said. "Talk to the doctor."

Somehow, Eagle thought Hawk might end up talking about more than what he'd done to Cub.

* * *

Hawk's talk with the doctor was every bit as uncomfortable as he'd expected it to be, but otherwise didn't go anything like the way he'd anticipated. Manning listened to his recital in silence - almost with the air of a priest receiving confession - then went on to deride his ability to be an active part of the SAS, told him exactly what he thought of his behaviour and was starting on what his recommendation to Command would be when Hawk burst out,

"It's not- there's just _something wrong with me_!" He shouted, "I _know_ he's a kid, and I shouldn't have hurt him, but I just didn't _think_ about that then - and if he _does_ work for Scorpia, I'd still want to- to make sure he couldn't-"

"Yes, exactly," Manning gave him a piercing look, "I'm referring you to the psychiatric help, Hawk - I can't believe you haven't been picked up before."

"I was given the trauma therapy after the assignment just the same as everyone else," Hawk said sullenly, abruptly calm again, like Coke fizzing out of the can before dying down again and only bubbling under the surface.

"Evidently it wasn't sufficient. And it was you who found your team-mate, wasn't it? You're bound to have been more affected than the others."

"I don't-"

"Whether or not he has links to Scorpia, you beat a child, Hawk. You're not fit for duty, and the sooner everyone realises that it's not just you 'getting over things' the better. If you don't take the therapy," Manning's eyes, icy, bored into Hawks, "I will request that you take a full medical examination, and I will make sure I find something which will bar you from active duty._Do I make myself clear_?"

Manning was a good four or five inches shorter than Hawk and considerably less broad, but it was Hawk who backed down. "Yes, sir," he nodded. "I'll inform my unit."

Manning's expression warmed a little as he nodded. "Good man," he said, and dismissed him.

* * *

Hawk was subdued and shamefaced when he reappeared in the lobby, and though his mouth tightened when he saw that Bear hadn't returned yet, he said nothing about it. They all sat in awkward silence, though Snake had evidently said something to Eagle, and his expression was almost as hangdog as Hawk's. No doubt 'professionalism' and 'correct behaviour' had come into it, but they didn't so much as make eye contact.

Jackal, looking uncomfortable breaking the heavy silence, cleared his throat, "You OK, Hawk?"

Eagle whispered something which sounded distinctly uncomplimentary, and though Hawk ignored it - and Snake nudged him for it - he could suddenly understand how Rider had felt when he was dealing with all his, Hawk's, snide, whispered comments; they were surprisingly difficult to ignore.

"Yeah. I'm off duty for psychological reasons until I pass a psych eval, though," he muttered.

Eagle looked up, "Good," he said, and although his voice was hard, his demeanour was a little less hostile. For all that, they lapsed back into awkward silence. There really was nothing to say.

When Bear came back, Hawk shot to his feet, but stayed where he was, and even Eagle looked up from his rapt attention on the floor. The scarred man's face was as calm and impassive as ever, but his posture was a little more relaxed, and he nodded once,

"They've said I can talk to Cub about it," he said quietly, "And Cub can share as much as he's able with me. So, Hawk, you come-"

"No." Eagle interrupted firmly, as Snake said, "I don't think that's a good idea-"

Though Jackal drew himself up, ready to argue and defend his team, Hawk himself nodded, "No, I agree. I - shouldn't be around Cub right now. And anyway, there's going to be a- a lot going on, better if Cub isn't crowded. I really- he's not well right now."

Bear nodded, looking relieved. "OK," he said, "But if he doesn't mind, you should know what he says, alright? It might help."

Hawk sat back down and nodded again listlessly. "Yeah, sure," he agreed, and though Bear looked at him for a minute longer, he didn't look up.

Bear went into Alex's room alone.

* * *

"Hey, Cub," he greeted him, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. Not doing anything whilst the kid fought Hawk made him unsure of his welcome; it was almost as bad as Hawk's own actions.

"Bear," the kid looked up from his perusal of Snake's book, which had been abandoned on the bedside table. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah," he said slowly, "I think, er... I think we should talk."

"About what?" Cub put the book aside again, movements stiff and deliberate, and turned his full attention to Bear.

"I thought we should talk about Hawk. I thought you might like to know why he - did what he did. It won't make what – what happened _better,_ but-"

"What he did to me wasn't much worse than what I did to him," There was no pride in Cub's voice, only resignation.

"He started it, Cub, and he's the adult," Bear started.

"Doesn't matter." Cub's voice and expression were firm, "I know a lot of ways to end fights without knocking people out - without_losing_ it like that, without even fighting much... and I'm old enough to know better. I'm_treated_ like an adult, I should act like one."

"It doesn't work like that," Bear tried, but Cub just shook his head.

"Maybe not for you," he said, sounding so final that Bear didn't try and argue the point. Maybe this boy was just a child, but sometimes he seemed far older than his years.

"Look, Cub... the situation with Hawk is - well, we should have explained things earlier, and this might not have happened, but - they were - are - classified. I've had permission from Command to tell you about them, but we couldn't have before." He looked a little shamefaced. "If we'd been thinking, we would have got permission earlier, but none of us ever thought Hawk would - get this bad."

Alex waited, but Bear didn't continue, "Yes?" This whole conversation was bizarre and tiring enough without having to tease all the answers out of the man.

"A month or so back, we were stationed in Morocco looking into-" he broke off, "Well, into something to do with the British Embassy there. When we got into the Embassy, things went wrong and I was captured. You remember I was tortured?"

Alex swallowed and nodded.

"We didn't know it at the time - they'd masked their steps well - but the group we were fighting was Scorpia, and they're not known for their tender loving care to captives. There were a lot of things they wanted to know, and when I wouldn't tell them..." Bear shrugged, "They were very thorough," he said succinctly, finally. "But I was lucky; we carry tracking devices on us for assignments like that one, and they hadn't found them. My position was tracked, and I got out. It was Hawk who found me."

He was evidently waiting for a reaction, but Alex was silent for a long, long moment, unable to sort his emotions out quickly enough to have an immediate response. "So Hawk thought I was working for Scorpia? That was why he hated me so much – because of what happened to you?"

"We never-" Bear dragged a hand over his face, half-frustrated, half-embarrassed, "We didn't talk about it. Jackal talked to Hawk, but they've always been pretty careful about talking about it around me. I had a whole load of therapy once I got back – physical, mental, you name it." He quirked a humourless grin, "Hawk got lumped with the rest of the unit, the standard post-SNAFU assignment therapy. And we didn't realise how deep it went until you arrived. I mean, he was different," Bear could tell he was babbling, but he had to explain this properly, and he still meandered through trying to give a proper report on this, "But he wasn't – _dangerous_ like this."

"He was fine when I first got here," Alex frowned, "He asked me about Scorpia like it was nothing..."

"And you didn't answer," Bear reminded him, "As far as I can work out, Hawk figured you wouldn't talk about them because you were still working for them – and that's when he really went off."

Alex was silent again, and then he said very quietly, "So all of this," he waved his hand at the white infirmary walls, "Was because Hawk _jumped to conclusions_?"

Bear sighed, "Yeah, I guess," he agreed, "But – OK, d'you have a really good friend, Cub? Someone you trust completely, know inside out?"

For a horrible moment, Alex actually had to pause and think before he answered that. Tom was bending over backwards to make things right in their friendship, but what he'd done remained between them. Still, they were good friends – really good friends. And they'd get over this, so that was his answer right there, "Yeah. Why?"

"You gotta imagine finding them beaten half to hell, blood all over their face," he gestured awkwardly at the thick scar on his forehead, "Looking a couple of steps away from outright dead. Imagine how you'd feel – how you'd react, right?"

"I get that, OK?" Alex said, taking a deep breath, "I understand, but what, he couldn't have _asked_? That would have cleared things up before any of this needed to happen. He didn't even have to ask me, didn't he wonder why I _actually_ had a codename? I trained here, Bear, with K-Unit eight or nine months ago – he could have just asked one of them!"

Bear bit his lip, "I can't defend him," he said quietly, "But I really want to." He sighed, "He's a good guy, Cub – a _really_ good guy. Everything went arse-up for him and seeing me like that – it's got him all twisted up inside."

"Join the club," Alex muttered, but Bear just shook his head.

"I'm really sorry you went through that, Cub – and sorry that we didn't do anything to stop it sooner. But-"

Alex shook his head slowly, and held up a hand, "I – can't deal with this now," he said quietly, "I talked to Hawk earlier, he apologised, I apologised – we're good. But I'm really tired, and I don't want to deal with all this right now, OK?" he took a deep breath, "I won't – process it right, react properly."

Bear quirked an awkward grin, "Yeah, sorry," he said apologetically, "I should have thought, you must be wiped."

"I'm tired, yeah," Alex agreed, then managed a smile of his own, "I figure this is one of the few times I can get away with showing it."

Bear's grin didn't survive that, "Yeah, maybe. I'll come by later, Cub." He stood, "You want to see anyone? You've got quite the fanclub out there waiting."

"I don't think you could stop them if they really want in," he said frankly, "But I might fall asleep halfway through whatever they're saying." Bear nodded, his smile reappearing. He was at the door before Alex spoke up, voice slow and drowsy, "Bear? I've got nothing to do with Scorpia, you don't have to worry."

Floored, Bear took a moment to come up with a reply for that. Did he seem worried? Had the kid just picked up on something he hadn't known he was broadcasting? "Why all the special training then?" he asked, stalling for time.

Alex's eyes were closed, and he was evidently mostly asleep – the pain meds were keeping him fairly sleepy, Bear presumed – but he answered all the same, "I work for MI6," he said, words slurring a little, "Thought you already knew."

And with that bombshell, he fell the whole way into sleep, leaving Bear standing in the doorway, completely stumped.

* * *

There it is! Only one person came really close to guessing what was up with Hawk, but I was totally thrilled that it hadn't been blindingly obvious from the start. (grin) I hope everyone liked this chapter!

SNAFU, for those who don't know, stands for "Situation Normal: All F*cked Up".

**QUICK AND SHAMELESS PLUG **for my own fic: An NC-17 slash fic over on my livejournal - Yassen/Alex, and the details are on my profile.

OK, I'm done. And I'm shattered. Hope everyone liked!

-amitai


	13. Chapter 13

Here it is, at long last! Chapter 13 of HIOP, in all its dubious glory.

Life is mental at the moment. There's so much to READ for my course - though, not as much as some have, thank God! - and I joined societies and all of that nonsense, as well as this being a big year birthday wise/anniversary-wise for my entire family. Mental, seriously.

So, for what I hope will be the last time, I really am sorry that chapters take me so long, because it's frustrating to have unfinished fics lying around amongst other things. I also know that it's frustrating as a reader, especially when a fic gets longer and you haven't just got a couple of chapters to reacquaint yourself with. But whilst I'm sorry, this is still something that _I_ do for fun, just as you, hopefully, read it for fun. And y'know what? I'm sorry, but the more unpleasant reviews I get on how long it takes me to update, the more like a chore this becomes. There was a point there a while back when I dreaded getting a review alert in my inbox for HIOP because there was a good 50:50 chance that it was going to be unpleasant. Yes, I take a long time, and I'm sorry for that. But I post this stuff on the internet for fun, for _free_, and telling me that my fic is no longer mine because I post it in a big archive is foolish and discouraging. I don't write for you, OK? I write for me, and it's fun, and I am _delighted_ beyond words that people enjoy my stuff, but please. Please, lay off on the emotional blackmail for updates, OK? It doesn't help. Really, it doesn't. And y'all can see my profile page for more details on this, if you really want to.

On a far more positive note, thanks so much to everyone who enjoyed this and has reviewed it since the last update! Like I said, I'm so, so happy y'all are enjoying it. :DDD

Thanks to: **Lightning Struck, My Little Kitsune, McNuggets, bkwyrm16, EriKaBalDel, PlayKate, Emily and Xixi, RidersGirl, Marauderette Lily, alperovitz, St. Danger, Powdered Perfection, Talionyzero, Ambrele **and**Kermita**, who responded to AN I posted instead of Chapter 13 last time, and thanks to anyone who bid for me over at help_haiti. The community as a whole raised a phenomenal amount of money, and it was really great to be able to be a part of that, thanks to those who bid. :D

Special thanks as always to **Von** for putting up with me, and **NoliNoli** who cheerled so fantastically and told me this chapter was OK when I wanted to scrap it and start all over again - again. (grin) here's to you, hon!

DISCLAIMER: Not only is Alex Rider not mine, I wouldn't even want him. (grin)

* * *

"_I – can't deal with this now," he said quietly, "I talked to Hawk earlier, he apologised, I apologised – we're good. But I'm really tired, and I don't want to deal with all this right now, OK?" he took a deep breath, "I won't – process it right, react properly."_

_Bear quirked an awkward grin, "Yeah, sorry," he said apologetically, "I should have thought, you must be wiped."_

"_I'm tired, yeah," Alex agreed, then managed a smile of his own, "I figure this is one of the few times I can get away with showing it."_

_Bear's grin didn't survive that, "Yeah, maybe. I'll come by later, Cub." He stood, "You want to see anyone? You've got quite the fanclub out there waiting."_

"_I don't think you could stop them if they really want in," he said frankly, "But I might fall asleep halfway through whatever they're saying." Bear nodded, his smile reappearing. He was at the door before Alex spoke up, voice slow and drowsy, "Bear? I've got nothing to do with Scorpia, you don't have to worry."_

_Floored, Bear took a moment to come up with a reply for that. Did he seem worried? Had the kid just picked up on something he hadn't known he was broadcasting? "Why all the special training then?" he asked, stalling for time._

_Alex's eyes were closed, and he was evidently mostly asleep – the pain meds were keeping him fairly sleepy, Bear presumed – but he answered all the same, "I work for MI6," he said, words slurring a little, "Thought you already knew."_

_And with that bombshell, he fell the whole way into sleep, leaving Bear standing in the doorway, completely stumped.

* * *

_

Bear almost stumbled out of the little room, his mind whirling. It was incredible – had to be a lie – and yet, if the kid wasn't the villain of the piece, and he wasn't trained by Scorpia, that left them with pitifully few options as to when and where the kid had had his training, and _why_.

And some of those questions could be answered by K-Unit.

"He OK?" Eagle pounced on him the moment he appeared in doorway to the lobby.

"He's asleep." Bear managed, and Hawk glanced up.

"Are _you_ OK?" he asked, and Bear took a moment to regret the events which had led them hear, to Hawk being unable to pass up the slightest indication that Bear might be upset or uncomfortable. The intensity of that was throttling both of them. "What's the little bastard don-" He caught Eagle's eye and subsided, actually looking a little ashamed of himself.

"You guys," Bear started and then had to clear his throat. "You guys," he repeated, looking at K-Unit. "Did you know about Cub being MI6?"

Hawk looked up abruptly, his eyes wide and shocked. "No. No _way_."

Eagle shook his head. "What, you guys _didn't_ know?"

Hawk rested his head in his hands. "Oh _fuck_." He whispered.

"Yeah." Bear agreed. "Jesus, guys, we didn't even know he'd trained with you! You couldn't find a minute to tell us this? Then we might not be dealing with this – disaster."

"Not to mention," Jackal said quietly, "It could have been useful to know that we were dealing with a fully-trained intelligence agent before we tried to _fight_ him, God. Those combat training sessions were rough."

"If only he _was_ fully trained." Snake muttered at the same time as Eagle spoke up.

"We've been hearing a hell of a lot about this combat training rubbish – what the hell is it?" He asked roughly. "I mean, hell, Cub disappears for a training session with you guys and reappears _bleeding into his brain_. What the hell, guys?"

"All we were told to do was assess his combat weaknesses against a group." Jackal spoke up. "We figured a fight was the best way forward."

"And you never thought maybe the whole situation was a bit – weird?" Snake asked. Jackal just shrugged.

"Right, so you were _assessing_ him," the word dripped scorn, "and you found that beating his skull in tended to disable him just a bit?" Eagle snapped, then stood abruptly. "_Fuck_, I can't sit here." He muttered. He gave Hawk a contemptuous glance. "If this goes on, I'm going to end up like you." Hawk just flushed, and Eagle shook his head. "That kid's been beaten half to hell and back again, he's got a bullet scar the size of a two pence piece over his _heart, _for Christ's sake, and you're telling me you never once thought to question beating the shit out of him?"

"When's the last time you questioned an order, Eagle?" Jackal bit out. "I'm getting really fed up of your holier-than-thou shit, so you can sit right down and shut the hell up."

"Because you didn't go a little bit mad when it was Bear lying there getting better, did you?" Eagle snapped back viciously.

"The situations aren't comparable!" Jackal hissed.

"Bullshit they aren't!" He shrugged off Snake's hand as he tried to calm him a little. "Your teammate got the shit kicked out of him by a psycho, I'd say they're pretty fucking similar!"

"I'm not a _psycho_!" Hawk cried, and Eagle wheeled round then stopped at the sight of him. Hawk was hunched over in the flimsy plastic chair, and his posture would have looked ridiculous if it hadn't been for the look of abject misery on his face. "I'm not a fucking psycho, Eagle." He repeated very quietly. "I'm just a bit messed up right now. I'll get over it, and so will the kid."

Eagle shook his head. "Hell." He muttered, dragging a hand over his head. "I'm sorry. I can't – that kid needs a break, and he never gets it." He glanced at Snake. "I'm going to go and see if Wolf and Fox need any help." He told him. "Send a message if Cub wakes up?"

Snake nodded. "Will do." He turned back to B-Unit as Eagle trudged out the door. Hawk's eyes were fixed on his shoes and Jackal was looking faintly pugnacious; Snake stifled his sigh and said, "so, Cub. Q and A session – what do you guys want to know?"

* * *

Wolf, meanwhile, was halfway to envying Alex's unconsciousness after barely ten minutes with his class. Every last one of them had their own ideas about Alex's fall, and every last one of them seemed to feel the need to shout about it at him. He only had to keep them quiet until five, he thought with gritted teeth. Five o'clock, that was it. Then he could pack them off for an hour before tea, and then palm them off on D-Unit for some training in the flashier aspects of night manoeuvres.

It was two thirty, and five o'clock had never seemed so far away.

It took very little to get them to shut up, but he was sensible enough to realise that however dickish some of the little brats had been to Cub, some of them – a small handful out of the sack, sure, but some nonetheless – were actually Cub's friends, so he could stand to answer at least some of their questions.

"OK, listen up," he said, raising his voice over theirs with effortless ease, "this is an exercise in learning how to debrief, since you may need to know if anyone comes after you lot. We use debriefings to exchange information; we tell the superiors what went on, they tell us what can and can't be told to members of the public." One kid raised his hand, and Wolf paused for a moment. "What?"

"We just want to know what happened to Alex. Rider." She added quickly. "Um, sir."

"All you need to know is, the kid's fine." Wolf lied shortly, too shaken-up to manage a properly quelling answer. "If you shut the hell up, I might let you ask some more questions in a minute. In the meantime, I was talking about debriefings." He proceeded to ignore her, turning back to his original subject. "In the SAS, a large proportion of what we do will be classified on some level or other, and that's how it should be; the SAS isn't about heroism, it's about getting the job done. That's what every soldier wants, for any of you stupid enough to consider a career in the military after these two weeks." There were a couple of scattered grins from the braver (or smugger) ones. "We want to get the job done well and come home safely. Sometimes the latter has to be sacrificed for the former."

He glanced sideways at Fox, who was standing behind him, leant against the corrugated iron wall of the hut. Fox gave him a blankly polite look which told him, plain as anything, that Fox had no idea where Wolf was going with and no intention of stepping in until he caught Wolf's drift. Since Wolf wasn't entirely sure where he himself was going with this, that could turn out to be a problem. He'd just wanted to get round to letting them ask a couple of questions without making them feel that they could run all over him. It felt out of place to just ask for them, not to mention dangerous to Cub's cover if he just let the little brats loose to ask whatever they damn well pleased.

"OK, can any of you brainless little twerps think of any other purposes for a debriefing?" He asked and refused to let himself wince. He'd sounded like the worst kind of school teacher he'd ever had.

One kid raised his hand – John? Joe? James? "Um, getting soldiers back into a civilian mindset?"

Wolf raised an eyebrow. "Nice try. You're debriefed in uniform by a superior officer, so there's not much of a chance you'll be allowed to forget you're in the military. Anyone else got a sensible suggestion?"

The kid named Hartford raised his hand – Wolf last remembered him pushing Cub around and prepared himself for a sneering response. "Mental assessment?" he offered. "To see how badly they've been affected by the situation?"

Wolf actually paused for a second. "Not a bad try, brat." He nodded. "OK then. Anyone else?"

"Are there any other options?" The small kid, Toby or something like that, asked rather snidely.

Wolf drew in a breath to snap back at the kid, but Fox stepped forwards and shot him a glance out of the corner of his eye. "A debriefing's pretty straightforward – no, there aren't many other purposes behind it. If there were, it would get more complicated than necessary."

Clearly, something was going on here, and Wolf had jumped into a situation half-cocked once today already, he wasn't about to do it again. "Right, so. Take the situation we've just had with Rider. You've got five questions to ask between you, choose 'em then ask 'em." He stepped back, beckoning Fox to follow him with a jerk of his head. "What's up with that kid?" he asked glancing at the small, dark haired boy.

"Seems to be Cub's only friend." Fox shrugged. "Eagle said something about him, but he was pretty garbled. I just figure we should go easy on him until Eagle explains properly, y'know? If Cub really was a good friend of his."

"Right." Wolf considered it. "If he gives lip again, I'm going to give him punishment duty, I'm not giving that rabble an inch. He can spend it in the infirmary, or what the hell ever."

Fox nodded shortly. "You're actually going to let them ask you whatever they like about Cub?"

"None of 'em'd dare contradict me if I say something's off limits." Wolf shrugged.

"Yeah, but it'll get pretty damn suspicious if you try it too often." Fox pointed out.

"They've only got five questions, if they're sensible they won't waste 'em."

"'If they're sensible' is asking quite a bit from this lot." Fox muttered, but shrugged. "Have it your way."

Wolf opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Eagle appearing by his side. "What'd I miss?"

"Wolf's teaching them how to debrief as an excuse to let them ask questions about Cub." Fox said succinctly, and stepped back, his face blank but with disapproval written in almost every line of his stance.

"They've got five questions between the lot of them." Wolf clarified with a frown. "It was a free-for-all when we first got here, and I'm not going to go into detail. I just don't want them thinking we're soft and they can walk all over us."

Eagle paused then nodded. "Makes sense, I guess." He nodded. "Though, debriefing? They're acting under a pack mentality, but at least some of them are going to realise that's a ploy."

"Doesn't matter." Wolf said. "They'll just think I'm being a dick."

Eagle flashed him a grin. "Got your measure, then."

Wolf managed a smile in return. If Eagle could be joking, things couldn't be too bad, surely. "How's Cub doing?"

"Not too bad." Eagle shrugged. "He's awake, and seems to be pretty coherent. Look, Wolf, did – does anyone else know that Cub's SIS? Because – B-Unit didn't know. That's why Hawk was such a twat to the kid, he thought he was from Scorpia."

Wolf shut his eyes for a brief second. "Fuck." He breathed. "I just assumed..."

"Yeah, you and me both." Eagle nodded, then jerked his head at the kids. "We'll talk about it later, OK? Get back to the brats."

Wolf took a deep, reviving breath, and turned back to the class. "You've got thirty seconds." He told them, voice cool. A brief verbal scramble met his words, and he counted down against his watch. "Right, time's up. Questions." One kid at the front – Raquel? Rebecca? – raised her hand, and he nodded. "What?"

"Is Alex a spy?" she asked outright, and Wolf gave her a look of all the contempt he could muster.

"I specifically meant you _not_ to waste these questions." He snapped. "No, Rider is not a spy, and if he was, we'd hope he'd be competent enough not to fall off a zip wire. Next question."

"If he's not a spy, why does he do all that special stuff?" She persisted.

"Is that a question, brat?" he asked, dangerously quiet.

The girl glanced round, but a good percentage of the class were nodding. "Um, yes? Sir?"

"Rider is taken out of your activities because of the report we received from your school and our own assessment." Eagle said, stepping forwards. "We were told he'd been ill a lot, so we gave him other tasks – as you well know. Does anyone have a valid question to ask, or should we just move on?"

"Is he alright?" The short boy asked.

Eagle glanced at him. "He's conscious." He said shortly. "He seems to have banged his head on something in the lake, the doctors are worried about concussion."

"Why did he fall off the zip wire?"

Eagle raised an eyebrow. "Because he couldn't stay on. Last question."

A brief scuffle before Hartford spoke up. "Is he going to be staying here or going home?"

"That's up to the doctors. We'll tell you more when we know more – if you need to know." Eagle glanced round and then back at the class. "Right, get into your groups for martial arts. We're going to try breaking boards."

* * *

It was an enormous relief to be able to pack the brats off at five and to have a little time to themselves to talk things over. Snake had arrived at four, looking tired but bringing the news that Cub was both awake and coherent and that the doctor seemed fairly calm about the whole thing. Then he'd calmly turned away and started explaining how aim properly at the boards with the heel of the palm.

When the kids had filed out, however, Wolf turned to the other three and raised an eyebrow. "What now, then?" he asked and Snake heaved a sigh.

"B-Unit had no idea about Cub and I'm guessing no one else did either." He said, soundly infinitely weary. "And we had no idea about what was really going on in those combat lessons we were sending him off to, so everyone's been acting in ignorance."

"Barracks, now." Wolf ordered. "And then you can explain what the hell those lessons were all about."

"It takes a second." Eagle said stiffly. "It was about beating the shit out of Cub to get him 'familiar with fighting groups'."

For a second, Wolf paused, almost staring at Eagle, then shook his head. He had heard of - dealt with - things worse than whatever the hell had been going on with Cub, but normally he wasn't on the same side as the people who were committing whichever atrocity was going on now.

"Right." He nodded. "Barracks. Then you can explain."

They took the short trek up to their barracks in silence, each unwilling to speak up with banalities which would seem out of place and unnecessary. It wasn't like they'd ever put much store on conversational niceties anyway, and employing them now would be a dead give-away as to how this whole situation had shaken them up.

In the barracks, Wolf paced next to his bed, short, sharp precise steps as though he was back on the parade grounds, even though they hadn't practised drill in probably far too long. Eagle watched him, a distant expression on his face, thinking back on all the clues he should have picked up on and hadn't, all the indications that there was something wrong with Cub.

"Well, I guess now we know why Cub is SpecOps and we're not." He said suddenly, breaking the silence without exactly meaning too.

"What?" Wolf asked shortly, turning on him.

"He managed to hide this shit," Eagle explained, "and we managed to miss it."

"Well, I'm glad someone's happy to have been made a fool of by a fourteen year old child." Wolf snapped.

"Stop _acting_ like a child, James." Snake said firmly, even rather harshly, breaking the one hard-and-fast rule they kept amongst teammates - never use real names. "The only people who made fools out of us, was us, and the only people who really know about it are us, so _leave it_."

"That's not even the question right now," Fox said quietly. "The question is what we're going to do now we _do_ know?"

"We've got to work out what the hell is going on with these combat sessions before we can really _do_ anything." Snake pointed out. "That kid - Harris - he said that Cub had had the shit kicked out of him, but I thought he was exaggerating. What's the _point_ of just beating hell out of him? And, Christ, if it's as bad as it sounds like, I'd have thought we'd have _noticed_..."

"Yeah, because we made it so easy for Cub to come to us and tell us that something was wrong, didn't we?" Eagle said sarcastically. "We were so wrapped up in worrying about the other little rats, we didn't have the time to spare on Cub." He took a deep breath, clearly attempting to gain a little objective distance. "Where did that order come from, anyway?" He said, sounding a little calmer. "Our superiors? MI6? Who the hell gives that kind of order to a teenager?"

Wolf sat heavily down on his bed. "Especially one who's been such an 'asset' to them," he added. "There's no _reason_ for them to want Cub to get the beaten half to hell and back. What use is he to anyone like this?"

Eagle gave him a faintly contemptuous glance. "Yeah, let's ignore the fact that no intelligence agency in any civilised country should be making 'use' of a teenager in the first place." He said acidly, and Snake stepped in before Wolf could bite off an equally acerbic reply.

"That's not what he meant, and you know it." He said. "Do I have to mediate you two whilst we try to sort this mess out?"

Eagle backed down, shamefaced. "Sorry," he said almost unwillingly, "After dealing with Hawk and Bear all afternoon - Jesus, their unit leaves me with a nasty taste in my mouth."

Wolf looked at him for a long moment, then nodded sharply, standing up and beginning to pace again. "Right, let's focus on one thing at a time, shall we? The order clearly wouldn't have come from _our_ superiors - this whole situation was engineered by MI6, they love treating the SAS like their own personal extension of the black-ops. That pisses the superiors off something nasty, so they probably didn't check through the orders given about Cub too closely - I'm willing to bet that they'll override them now that the poor kid's lying in the infirmary."

"Why are MI6 being so bloody careless with the kid?" Fox said thoughtfully. He'd been quiet up till now, clearly unwilling to get in on the discussion after the way he'd harangued Cub over the situation with Hawk just the day before. "It doesn't make _sense _- they went to all the trouble of making sure that he was trained to start with-"

"They gave him two weeks Basic and sent him off to God knows where." Eagle shrugged off the concern. "I think the head – Blunt? Blunkett? – spent rather too long playing with his toy soldiers to remember that they're actually real."

"We can be pretty sure the order came from SIS, either way." Wolf interrupted their discussion impatiently. "So we needn't worry too much about overruling it-"

"Should we, though?" Snake asked reasonably. "I'm not saying I think we should let him alone with psychos like Hawk to get all hell kicked out of him, I'm just saying that maybe it's not such a bad idea that he gets given better training in fighting off groups. We were telling Cub just, what, yesterday? That he was pretty much the only hope the rest of the brats _had_."

Eagle glanced away from all of them, and swallowed. "And I think we'd better start accepting the fact that this little setback may mean that the rest of the little brats don't have a snowballs chance in hell. It's expecting a hell of a lot for the kid to bounce back from _bleeding into his brain_, y'know?"

"Someone had better pass that thought along to SIS, then." Wolf said grimly. "Because they can't leave these kids undefended without even Cub to defend them."

"It was expecting a hell of a lot of him to defend a group of what, thirty, against fully-trained adults anyway." Eagle returned quietly. "I just think we're in danger of acting like SIS here and thinking that the kid's indestructible. If we learn anything from this, it'd better be that Cub's not an automaton, no matter how tough he acts. He's just a kid."

Wolf opened his mouth to respond but was cut off before he could say anything by a sharp knock on the door. Startled, but too well trained to let just anyone in, even whilst nominally on down-time, he opened the door a fraction before letting it fall open to reveal an aide from HQ. "Yes?" He asked, just off a snap.

"Colonel Roslyn wants you up at HQ as soon as possible." The aide said smartly, standing almost automatically at attention. "Formal uniform is clearly not required."

Wolf just nodded sharply, both an agreement and a dismissal, and let the door fall shut as he headed to collect his beret.

"Maybe we'll actually get told something useful this time?" Snake said quietly, already ready to head up to HQ.

"Yeah, but if it's just us-" Eagle started.

"The problem started with B-Unit, I'm pretty certain they'll be included in this little fun-fest." Fox pointed out, more than a hint of sarcasm colouring his tone. "If nothing else, Hawk needs to be formally reprimanded for his behaviour, and it's pretty clear that they need to be in the loop about this. HQ might be full of paper-pushers, but that doesn't mean they're stupid."

Wolf shrugged off their concerns. "Whatever they've got planned," he said firmly, "they want us up there right away, so let's go and find out what the hell they want rather than gossiping about it like old ladies at a church meeting, alright?"

"He does have such a way with words, doesn't he?" Eagle said sweetly on his way out and Wolf reached up to cuff him round the head, knocking his beret askew.

"And a way with violence to back 'em up, now get your arse into gear."

* * *

Whatever tension K-Unit were feeling through their own ignorance, Tom was willing to bet that his own situation was far worse. He'd tried to help Alex and it had gone so, so wrong - had done nothing, in fact - and now he didn't even know what was wrong with his friend. He only had the SAS' word that Alex was going to be OK and at this point he wasn't sure how far he honestly trusted them.

He sat in the barracks, silent amongst the rife speculation of his classmates, with Ben sat near him, a sympathetic look on his face even if he was as resolutely silent as Tom himself. Charlotte had attempted, briefly, to cheer him up, and had even tried to dispel some of the more fantastical rumours their classmates were so gleefully spreading about Alex - this new development made all the rumours about him which were going around Brooklands seem tame and uninteresting. They had new information to talk about, new rumours to come up with, and they were more than willing to put their best efforts into this, if not into the training they were supposed to be receiving here.

Finally, Tom stood, sick to his stomach on hearing some of the bullshit the rest of his class could come up with. The latest rumour had to do with some kind of bizarre insurance claim crap, and Tom couldn't stand it any longer. A half-formed plan in mind, he turned to Ben and said, low, "I'm heading out for a walk."

Ben paused. "Want any company? I'd like a bit of fresh air...?"

"Nah, it's OK." He shook his head. "I'm - I think some privacy, y'know? Might be kinda nice."

"You sure it's a good idea? I mean, since we're in the middle of an army camp?"

"If Alex can do it, we can, right?"

Ben looked sceptical for one brief second, but nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess so." Neither of them mentioned that if - since - Alex was a spy, he could probably get away with things that they themselves couldn't even consider doing.

But Tom had a plan this time, and he wasn't going to let anything - lack of skill, lack of planning, or even his classmates, not even the well-meaning ones - get in his way. "See you in a bit, OK?" And with that, he slipped out.

He wasn't entirely sure where the infirmary was, but he had a vague idea, given some hints Alex had let slip over the past few days about the lay-out of the camp - Tom was pretty certain that he was the only person other than Alex who could have found K-Unit's barracks without needing to ask anyone for directions - and he could probably find his way there somehow. And if anyone tried to stop him, he'd - play the injured child card. Tom was far from being above lying to get what he wanted.

What had Alex always said? That no one stops someone who looks like they knew where they were going, so Tom, despite the fact that his heart seemed to be beating right on top of his Adam's apple, swallowed once, and headed purposefully in the direction he assume would take him toward the infirmary.

Five minutes later, he was pretty sure he was lost, and equally sure that if every building hadn't looked exactly the same as the next he would have had a better chance of finding the damn thing. He'd been so damn certain that the infirmary wouldn't look the same as all the other wooden barracks, and now he seemed to be wondering fruitlessly between hundreds of the bloody things, looking for something which looked like it might have an operating theatre in it. Somewhere which looked clean and respectable and like it idealt with sick people/i.

It was clearly a losing battle.

Eventually, totally lost, he glanced round, and limped towards the nearest barracks.

He didn't recognise the man who answered the door, which was a head-start he hadn't expected to receive. Biting his lip and mustering up the most pathetic face he could manage, he said quietly, "Um, where's the infirmary, please? I - hurt my leg on the - the assault course, and I..." he trailed off, shifting his weight awkwardly on his 'injured' leg. He might not be a spy like Alex, but every kid knew how to fake something like this. It was a side-effect of years and years of unwanted school-days.

The soldier gave him a frankly suspicious look, and glanced back into the barracks before shrugging. "I'll take you there myself." He said, shutting the door firmly behind him. "Wouldn't want you to get lost with an injured leg." Even Tom picked up on the sarcastic slur to his words.

This wasn't part of the plan. "I don't want to be any trouble," he managed, but the soldier shook his head.

"No, really, I insist." He ushered Tom ahead of him, and Tom actually felt shaky with nerves. He was certain that the man could see through his limp, could tell that he was faking it, and he didn't want to know what the consequences for that would be. He considered his options and reasoned that he would just have to brazen it out; he was committed now.

"Er, what's your name?" he said, allowing all of the awkwardness he felt to seep into his voice.

The soldier gave him a disinterested look, and Tom figured that maybe inane chit-chat was the way forward; if he irritated the guy enough, he could probably persuade him to leave him outside the infirmary when they eventually got there. "I'm Jackal." He said coolly. "I'm in charge of B-Unit."

The name rang a bell, but Tom wasn't sure if he was mixing it up with another unit, and he wasn't willing to make assumptions this early on - not when he might accidentally put his foot in it and raise suspicions he absolutely did not want raised. "When did you join the SAS?"

"Two and a half years ago." Jackal said shortly, his mouth thinning into a line.

"Do you get put together as a unit right from the start or what?" Tom asked curiously.

"Is there a point to this, kid?"

Tom shrank back into himself. "No." he said in a tiny voice, allowing himself to sound perhaps more intimidated than he really was. After all, these weren't the men who were trying to kill them, no matter how much it sometimes seemed like it.

Jackal sighed. "OK. Look, the-" He was cut off by someone calling his name, and he wheeled round, Tom following him a second or so later to see another soldier he didn't recognise heading towards them at a flat run. "What is it?" Jackal asked, sounding even more annoyed than before.

"We're to head up to HQ right away." The stranger said, not even out of breath from his sprint. "I told Bear and Hawk I'd come and fetch you."

Jackal opened his mouth to say something, then glanced down at Tom. "Right," he said simply in the end. "Kid, the infirmary - you head up here, to the top of the hill, and you should see it, down-aways on your right, OK?"

Tom nodded, now almost more curious about whatever it was that these guys were clearly hiding than in seeing Alex and checking that he was OK. But that wasn't the point of this little jaunt, and he pushed it out of his mind. He'd happily leave investigations and such-like to Alex; this was about as deceptive as he got. "Right, thank you." He said politely, rather than push it. He watched for a moment as Jackal and the other stranger headed off, then turned to head up the hill. He was canny enough to wait until they were out of sight before dropping the limp.

* * *

Wolf resumed his short pacing outside Colonel Roslyn's office door, forwards and backwards and back again, only stopping when Eagle frowned him into stillness. It was rare that Wolf responded to someone else's glares, but today was a day full of surprises, Snake thought as he watched his teammates whilst they waited to be summoned in.

Eagle seemed the most cut up about this whole thing, which was perhaps not to be wondered at, since Eagle was the one who'd spent the most time with the kid since he got here, and it had been Eagle who'd carried Cub up to the infirmary. He might not have been there when he woke up, but then, life didn't have to follow soap-opera to be equally dramatic in its own way. Snake's day job involved bombs and danger and explosions to rival any Tom Cruise blockbuster, he was the last person to discount every-day drama. Still, Eagle seemed to be taking it especially hard, and it was Snake's job, as K-Unit medic, to make sure he had at least a basic idea of his team's mental state. That was where B-Unit had been let down, and Snake wasn't going to make the same mistake as Cobra.

Fox had his own kind of guilt to get over, less corrosive than Eagle's but no less worrying. He'd snapped at the kid, sure, but he seemed to be taking it disproportionally badly. He'd been close to B-Unit at one point, but Hawk and Eagle had been closer than Fox had been with anyone outside K-Unit, and his reaction was going to bear further scrutiny. As for Wolf, well... Wolf was reacting badly on more levels than Snake thought could possibly be considered healthy. He felt it at a professional level, since he was the kid's unit leader, he'd been upbraided by that officious, busy-body bastard of a doctor at the infirmary, and he'd been getting closer to the kid, even if all of them had made the mistake of treating the kid like as much of a commodity as MI6 had ever done. They were all at fault, sure, but Wolf's reaction could be dangerous in a later situation.

He shook himself out of his musings when D-Unit arrived, Wasp looking more than a little confused and turning to Wolf for answers. "What the hell is going on, Wolf?" He demanded. "I heard about the kid, but what the hell has it got to do with us?"

Wolf shrugged. "I'm guessing they're rescinding the order about his god-awful combat lessons."

"Rubbish, they don't need to summon us up here for that," Adder put in. "No more than they had to get us here to GIVE it."

Wolf looked a little helpless and that was when Snake stepped in. They might have fucked up with Cub, but they were still the best people to deal with each other's weaknesses. "None of us have much of a clue right now." He said quietly. "And if B-Unit don't turn up soon, I'll eat my boots, so you might want to get any fenom out of the way now." He glanced at Eagle as he spoke, who looked away.

Viper gave him a long look, then nodded. "Wasn't the kid supposed to be part of your unit?" he asked casually, eyes still on Snake. "That was the impression I got, from a couple of things which were said."

Eagle huffed a bitter little laugh. "Yeah, because we did such a good job of looking after him."

"Do better next time?" Wasp suggested lazily, leaning against the wall and clearly looking to get under Eagle's skin for some reason or another. Snake frowned at him, but Wasp met his eyes camly and refused to be intimidated.

Snake was pretty sure that he would disagree with whatever half-arsed reasoning Wasp could come up with, but bit his lip. The last thing they needed right now was more discord between units.

It wasn't B-Unit who arrived next, but F-Unit, which shocked everyone present. F-Unit had had next to nothing to do with Cub and said as much. The whole meeting scenario was getting more bizarre as the minutes went on. Clearly, the superiors weren't intending to release any kind of camp-wide information about the boy - that would be far too risky - but if any more units turned up, they might as well have done.

B-Unit were the last to arrive by a good quarter of an hour margin, by which point K-Unit in particular were beginning to get twitchy. Snake kept himself rigidly calm, but Wolf, never the best at controlling irritation, had resumed his pacing in front of the door and Eagle was apparently engrossed in a loose thread on his jacket cuff, a nervous tic Snake had come to recognise over the last few years spent with these men. It was almost a relief when they were finally allowed to file into the office, no matter what was coming next.

They were given the at-ease command, and Snake allowed him to glance at Wolf and Eagle. Fox was dealing better than he'd anticipated with this, but Eagle especially was one to watch right now.

"The regrettable situation today with the boy, Rider," Roslyn started, his voice as dry as his expression, "has highlighted some flaws in our approach to him. Clearly, his is a unique situation, and clearly it needs to be handled with more care and attention than we have currently been giving it." Eagle let out a long breath. "You have all had contact with him, to some degree or another. K-Unit, I want your assessments of him on my desk by tomorrow morning. F-Unit, you're to take over affiliation with him-" Snake tensed, almost sensing what was coming next, and sure enough:

"Sir," Eagle spoke up, his tone respectful but insistent, and Wolf shifted minutely next to him, "with all due respect, we've come to know Cub - Rider, and I think his continuing with us would be for the best."

Roslyn met his eyes for a long moment. "Eagle, isn't it?"

"Sir."

"Eagle, 'Cub' is in the infirmary as we speak, and is, as I understand it, bleeding into his brain. I can't see that his staying with K-Unit would be in any way beneficial."

"Cub's shown himself to be unwilling to trust - doubtless with excellent reason, sir - and even if we may have misstepped in this instant," Roslyn actually snorted, "he was starting to trust us at least a little. I believe that he would benefit from staying with us, sir, if only because I don't believe that he could bring himself to form any kind of meaningful bond with another unit in the time he has left here at the Beacons."

Roslyn paused, and Eagle shifted a little uncomfortably under his gaze. "Your point may well be valid. In any case, F-Unit will take over his primary training - you will report to the Sergeant at Arms at oh-six-hundred hours tomorrow morning to discuss that whilst Rider is at the range. D-Unit, I want your full report on the sessions you had with him on my desk by the same time. You're being assigned to help K-Unit with their responsibilities with Rider's class. And B-Unit - remain behind when I'm done here." He sat, and they stood, uncomfortably for a long moment, before he glanced up again. "Now, I believe there are some things which need to be cleared up as regards Alex Rider and his status within the SAS and SIS."

* * *

Done! and Done!

(1) SpecOps is something I unashamedly stole from Jasper Fforde. I don't know if it's a genuinely used version of 'Special Operations'; I just liked his maxim for it: "If you want to get into SpecOps, act kind of weird". It seemed fitting. (grin)

So, there it is! HIOP 13. After next chapter, which should detail the events of Sunday/tomorrow, time is going to speed up a bit - they can't be at the camp forever! I have shit planned for them. :D

Hope you liked it! Do tell.

-amitai


	14. Chapter 14

Back again, with HIOP 14! I hope it was worth the considerably-shorter-than-usual wait. (I won't even lie, I'm kind of proud that this didn't take the usual four months to write, even if it is a filler chapter getting us from A to B and trying to disguise the fact with a lame pseudo-cliffhanger at the end by way of a distraction.)

Also, I'd really like to just take a moment here to say thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter and for all the support you showed over my last AN - it was wonderful, thank you everyone! I haven't had a single review since that hasn't been either lovely or constructive, and it was absolutely wonderful to be able to trust the reviews again! I mean, flames are bound to happen, but it was getting... it was killing all the fun of writing this, and now - demonstrably, in fact! - the fun is back! Seriously, you are all lovely people, and I really, really appreciate your support. Thank you!

This chapter is dedicated to **nuclearxsquid**, whose birthday's coming up soon - happy birthday, hon! I hope you don't mind getting this as your present. :D

Kudos as always to **Von**, who cheerled despite being rushed-off-her-feet busy and to **NoliNoli**, who helped me come up with the names for F-Unit, who were nameless. I'm fast running out of animal names which aren't either ridiculous ('Poodle'), a brandname (Puma, Jaguar, Lynx), or just plain ol' weird (Platypus? I think not). Noli helped me pick names which didn't sound _too_ bizarre! (This is me, shifting the blame for if they DO just sound weird. I think I'm being pretty subtle, though. :D)

Anyway, onwards to the story!

**Disclaimer**: Ownership of Alex Rider is another bullet point on the long list of Anthony Horowitz and I do not have in common.

* * *

"_F-Unit, you're to take over affiliation with him-" Snake tensed, almost sensing what was coming next, and sure enough:_

_"Sir," Eagle spoke up, his tone respectful but insistent, and Wolf shifted minutely next to him, "with all due respect, we've come to know Cub - Rider, and I think his continuing with us would be for the best."_

_Roslyn met his eyes for a long moment. "Eagle, isn't it?"_

_"Sir."_

_"Eagle, 'Cub' is in the infirmary as we speak, and is, as I understand it, bleeding into his brain. I can't see that his staying with K-Unit would be in any way beneficial."_

_"Cub's shown himself to be unwilling to trust - doubtless with excellent reason, sir - and even if we may have misstepped in this instant," Roslyn actually snorted, "he was starting to trust us at least a little. I believe that he would benefit from staying with us, sir, if only because I don't believe that he could bring himself to form any kind of meaningful bond with another unit in the time he has left here at the Beacons."_

_Roslyn paused, and Eagle shifted a little uncomfortably under his gaze. "Your point may well be valid. In any case, F-Unit will take over his primary training - you will report to the Sergeant at Arms at oh-six-hundred hours tomorrow morning to discuss that whilst Rider is at the range. D-Unit, I want your full report on the sessions you had with him on my desk by the same time. And B-Unit - remain behind when I'm done here." He sat, and they stood, uncomfortably for a long moment, before he glanced up again. "Now, I believe there are some things which need to be cleared up as regards Alex Rider and his status within the SAS and SIS."_

* * *

Whilst the various units were up at HQ, Tom had finally managed to find his way to the infirmary – an imposingly clean building, white and sterile. Clearly, it was kept tucked away from the barracks for whatever reason, and Tom wasn't sure he'd ever have found it on his own without directions, even with the large red cross painted on the side.

He pushed open the main doors and walked purposefully across to the swing doors leading down into a long, linoleum-lined corridor, ignoring the front desk and hoping to God that he'd somehow stumble across Alex. That kind of approach seemed to work for Alex, at any rate, but then Alex seemed to have the luck of the devil, bullet wound or no bullet wound.

The first couple of rooms he glanced into gave him nothing – empty beds or supply cupboards – but the fifth door down on the right showed him Alex propped up in bed, an orderly bending over him, chart in one hand. For a second, Tom deliberated over just walking straight in and hoping the orderly didn't ask any questions... but it was a matter of moments to reconsider that plan. He headed into the next room (thankfully empty and unlocked), and settled down to wait for a couple of minute.

He couldn't deny that he was proud of himself, excited by his success. It was the smallest of achievements, but he'd managed it by himself without getting caught or held up, and he was more than a little pleased with his own little triumph. It was nothing like the things that Alex had achieved, sure, but it was more than Tom had ever managed by himself, and he didn't think Alex would begrudge him his own little bit of pride over it.

He heard the door of the next room swing open and shut, and waited another couple of moments for the orderly's footsteps to die away before he opened his door and headed into Alex's room.

Alex looked up sharply the moment the door opened again, and Tom knew Alex well enough to catch the slight wince as he moved his head too fast. Clearly, whatever had happened to Alex, it was more serious than the SAS were willing to share with the other kids – not that Tom could blame them. The fact that Alex had one of those clips on his nose – for oxygen? Tom was pretty certain they were for oxygen, but he was getting this knowledge from _Casualty_, so he couldn't be sure – and was hooked up to an IV of some kind didn't exactly help the image.

"Heya," he offered, attempting a grin. "How're you feeling?"

Alex smiled back. "Like a horse has kicked me," he admitted. "Repeatedly."

Tom seated himself in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to the bed, the rubber soles of his SAS-issue boots squeaking embarrassingly on the floor. "Anything I can get for you? Y'know, books, homework, Hartford's head on a platter...?"

Alex laughed, though it was cut short by a wince. "No, I'm good. I'm hoping I'll be out of here pretty soon."

"So, it's – not too serious, then?"

Alex paused, and even Tom could tell that his friend was trying to decide whether or not he should tell him much. That stung, but mostly because Tom knew he deserved that damning little pause. "I – those combat lessons I have. Had, whatever," he started slowly, "they were. There's this one guy, who... really kind of hates me. Or hated me, I don't know. But he – we fought really badly, and I banged my head. Turns out it did a fair bit of damage."

"You cracked your head open?" Tom asked, frowning. No way they should all have missed that.

"No, I damaged the – the lining of the brain, I think the doctor said," Alex frowned himself, looking genuinely confused for the first time in what felt like years. Tom couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Alex look really thrown by anything, and that included the time his friend had turned up barefoot and wearing someone else's stolen clothes on a cross-country train in Italy. There was something almost endearing, if unnerving, about the bemusement on Alex's face. "I was bleeding into my brain. Or into the bit surrounding my brain, protecting it from my skull."

"Huh," that sounded both scary and accurate enough for Tom not to want to push for any more actual details about it. "Are you OK?" he asked awkwardly. "I mean, are you _going_ to be OK?"

"The doctor said I should be," Alex nodded. "Just that it might take a bit of time. And – I don't know how long I'm going to be in here for. Hopefully not long, y'know? But it might be a while and if it is, I'll miss out on training, and if I do _that_ then I won't be much use if our class gets – attacked, or whatever."

"Screw them," Tom said bluntly, startling a laugh out of Alex. "No, seriously, screw them. I told you, I don't even care right now."

Alex shrugged. "Like I said, you'll care pretty fast if they all die."

Tom shook his head. "I'll care, sure, but it's not your job to be looking after them, Alex. Even if you are better trained than us, there's only so much you can do, and only so much you should be expected to do, too."

Alex paused. "I guess, but-"

"Alex, they treat you like shit, they can't turn round and expect you to protect them after the crap they put you through!" Tom cried, lowering his voice when Alex winced. "Sorry. But they shouldn't expect it and you shouldn't expect it of yourself, either."

There was another long pause before Alex heaved a sigh and nodded carefully. "Yeah. Yeah, I – I understand," and though Tom wasn't wholly convinced, he let it slide all the same. "So, what're the rumours saying about this disappearance then?"

* * *

By the time Roslyn dismissed F-, D- and K-unit, they left the room in a state of near-shock, even K-Unit, who had been at least partially aware of Cub's status with both the SAS and SIS. Knowing that Cub had been part of SIS was nothing compared to being given detailed run-downs of his assignments and performance record. Snake took a moment to be unnerved by the clear lack of medical information that had been supplied about the kid, a lack which had been flagged up by the doctor back at the infirmary, but even he was thrown too far off-balance by the sudden onslaught of knowledge to be that preoccupied by it.

Wasp broke the silence with a brief, concise, "well, shit."

F-Unit's team leader, Leopard, glanced at Wolf, then away. "Is the kid – I mean, is he-" he broke off, clearly frustrated with his own indirectness. "Do we treat him as child or operative?" he asked finally, and Eagle stepped in before Wolf could respond.

"Try and strike a happy medium," he said simply. "He's both, treat him like that."

"_How_?" Leopard asked, frustrated.

"I don't know." Eagle shrugged. "Since you're dealing with his primary training-"

"We all know that's bullshit, don't pull that passive-aggressive bullshit on me," Leopard snapped, but Wasp stepped in before the argument could go any further.

"Calm it down, everyone, right now," he said firmly. "And Eagle, stop whining. You heard Roslyn, the orders have been changed up."

"Cub's not going to like it," Fox said quietly. "He may not trust us or even like us right now, but he _knows_ us-"

"And you're still his goddamn unit!" Leopard cried, clearly tense. "We're just the ones training him, which makes a whole load of fucking _sense_, can I just say, since you're dealing with the rest of his stupid goddamn class as well and juggling both is clearly not working as a system!" He took a deep breath. "Let's not forget that your being in charge of his class' training is probably not HQ's best ever idea, since you clearly can't be expected to be objective about the kid – _as we've all just found out_!"

Wolf stepped in, face like thunder. "Hey, what the hell? Where the _fuck_ do you get the right to throw crap like that around?" He demanded, and Snake, ever the voice of reason, heaved a sigh.

"Wolf, stop it. Leopard, what the hell did you mean?"

Leopard clenched his jaw, looking away for a moment before saying a little more calmly, "You're not – I think it was a mistake putting you in charge of his class. It was – it would have been easy to say that Cub was a special case and put a different unit in charge, but you guys clearly have a history with him, and I just don't think you were the right people for the job."

Criticism like that was always tough to take from other soldiers, but Snake shrugged it off. "I think you'd have a tough time finding _any_ of us who're fit for this job," he said frankly. "Cub's a special case. Cub gets where we're coming from. Maybe three kids in his entire class take this as anything other than a joke, and I really don't know what SIS thought they were going to achieve by sending these kids here," he made sure he had eye contact with Falcon before continuing. "We're soldiers for a reason, not instructors, not teachers. And we're doing the best we can. We fucked up with Cub, and now we're going to set that right, and worrying about the might-have-beens isn't going to do any of us a damn bit of good."

The whole of F-Unit looked suitably taken aback by his little speech, but Snake just shrugged, perfectly composed. He was well aware that he was the quiet one of K-Unit, and as far as he knew, F-Unit had never been deployed with them before, so they had no reason to know that in a unit of hot-heads and tempers, Snake was often the one stepping forwards to make sure everyone calmed down and shut up for long enough to do their jobs.

Wasp's voice broke the silence, low and smooth. "Hey, Snake, when you say 'fucked up', do you mean 'not being bothered to check what the hell your kid was being sent off to do', or were you speaking more generally?" The words had as much of a sting as his namesake.

Snake paused for just a second, and Eagle jumped in to pick up the slack. "OK, you've had some kind of a problem ever since you got called up to HQ," he said, more calmly than Snake would have thought. "Why don't you just say whatever it is now and have done?"

Wasp met his eyes very steadily. "I don't care what kind of superspy the kid is, he's _fourteen_, and he's a kid before he's a spy. I wasn't happy about being sent off to beat up a kid, especially not with Cobra in our unit, not given how good he is at crap like that," Snake glanced at the other man, who seemed perfectly at ease with the conversation: this had clearly been talked about within D-Unit already, "but we don't question orders-"

"And you expect us to be able to do that for you?" Eagle asked, a vicious, bitter undertone to his otherwise quiet words. "And we would have done a damn sight more if we'd actually known what Cub was doing in these 'combat lessons'."

"Either he's in your unit or not, and if he _is_, then you should damn well know!"

"But the fact remains that we didn't," Wolf rapped out. "We didn't know and we weren't told. Yes, we should have asked – but if you were that damn unhappy with it, Wasp, you should have said something, not festered and implied shit and made things worse by muddying up the waters with half-hints and nothing else."

Wasp held Wolf's eyes for a long moment, then looked away, which was when Viper stepped in, attempting as team leader to minimise the confrontation as far as possible. "Look, this was none of our business anyway, and we have to get back to the brats pretty soon," he said quietly. "I'm glad it's been sorted, and I'm glad we _know_ now, but – it's nothing to do with us." He glanced at Snake, and gave the lie to his own words by saying, "tell the kid to get well from us, OK?"

Snake nodded, and watched in silence as Viper jerked his head and led the rest of D-Unit away, dropping back to talk to Wasp as soon as they were safely out of earshot.

His attention was called back to F-Unit by Rat crossing his arms over his chest and saying very calmly, "so what's the best way for us to approach the kid, then?" Rat was easily the biggest man out of all the units Snake knew, standing at a comfortable six foot five, and appearing to be about as broad as he was long, and from everything Snake could see he was an unusual choice for the SAS. He was also a genuinely brilliant linguist, better even than Fox, who Snake knew had been approached by MI6 at least partially because of his language skills.

"Be straight with him," Eagle said immediately. "Tell him what he wants to know, or he won't trust you."

Rat glanced at Leopard for a moment, then nodded slowly. "And if we lie just a little? Y'know, talk around the truth for his own good?"

Eagle shrugged. "Cub's fourteen and he works for MI6. It's not like I know for sure, but I'm pretty certain he'll know."

Rat nodded again. "I see. What's he like?"

"Quiet," Wolf said gruffly. "More competent than you'd believe."

"He does intelligence work at the age of fourteen," Fox paraphrased Eagle, a depth of meaning in his words, "he's everything you'd expect from an agent – quiet, competent, self-contained – and it's _unnerving_."

"Huh?" Crow glanced up from his rapt contemplation of his boot-tops, hands still thrust deep into his pockets.

"He's a kid," Fox explained quietly. "You don't expect it."

Crow was Rat's opposite in every conceivable way – tiny, even against Wolf, who was short by anyone's standards, and as slight as it was possible to be whilst still being fit enough for the SAS, and he mangled even the most basic GCSE-level French (Snake had heard him try, it was painful). He was F-Unit's explosive expert, and seemed to take a truly unholy glee in blowing shit up; and yet he had the least imagination of any man Snake had ever met. It made him a fantastic patient – he just didn't have the imagination to be frightened of medical could-be's – but it made describing a kid like Cub for him a next to impossible task. True to form, his response to Fox was simply to shrug. "He's just a kid, MI6 agent or not. Do we even know what he's been deployed for? Might just be, like," he trailed off, pausing to think, "computer hacking or something." He offered them a rueful glance; not only did he have a crappy imagination, he knew it as well.

"He's got a bullet scar over his heart," Eagle said brusquely. "That's one hell of a computer."

Leopard stepped in. "We'll go and talk to the kid tomorrow morning, after we've talked to the sergeant." He met Eagle's eyes squarely as he added, "and we'll make sure to tell him the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth."

Eagle shifted minutely, but nodded. "Wise move."

F-Unit departed, clearly already talking amongst themselves about how they were going to deal with The Cub Problem. For a moment, K-Unit stood in silence, until Fox shifted, breaking the stillness. "Barracks," he said shortly. "We've got a brat-free night, and we should try and work out how the hell to deal with the other kids. We've only got a week to manage anything with them."

* * *

Tom was eventually kicked out of Alex's room by Dr. Manning, but almost pointedly was not reprimanded for being there. A small part of Alex, small and unhappy and bewildered by Tom's earlier betrayal, had softened a little when his friend had appeared in his room grinning all over his face because of his sneaky manoeuvre through the SAS camp. It didn't even matter that Alex could think of two or three ways that would have been easier and more expedient – what mattered was that Tom was _there_.

But it was a relief all the same when Manning told Tom, very calmly, that he had to leave. They'd talked about nothing at all for a good hour or so, about Tom's parents' divorce, and Jerry, about Jack and what Mr. Hanley had really been doing at Brooklands, and Alex's head was starting to ache again, sharp and throbbing, and he could feel exhaustion creeping back up on him.

"Right then," Manning told him cheerfully, "How're you feeling?"

Alex shrugged a little. "Better than I was," he said truthfully.

"Any pain or nausea?"

"It's starting to hurt again, but it's not so bad."

"Your IV bag could do with being changed," Manning noted, "so I'll get one of the orderlies in to do that in just a second. It will have some painkillers in it, just a light one, maybe codeine, to keep the pain down." He glanced over Alex's chart again, before slotting it back onto the end of the bed. "If I know this place at all, which I do," he started, "they'll want you back on your feet and running that ridiculous assault course before too long, but I'm going to keep you in here until Tuesday at the very earliest. The only thing running around will do is land you back in here, so I'm going to cut out the middle man."

Alex smiled a little. "I'd give quite a lot to watch you have that battle with Wolf," he said, honest with tiredness.

"Wolf would be the leader of the team you're assigned to?"

"K-Unit," Alex nodded very carefully.

"Ah, we've already had words," Manning smiled at him. "He won't put up any fuss. Now, I'm just going to explain to you what's in your IV, just so you know, before getting one of the orderlies in here to change the bag for you and let you go to sleep. We will be waking you every so often just to check for any of the symptoms which would require you to have immediate care, but I think you're fairly safe at this point. You came round by yourself and you're coherent and not in undue pain or displaying any signs of confusion, so I think you should be fine in a couple of days or so."

"I just want-" Alex cut himself off. It had been a long time since he'd felt the urge to say something as childish as 'I just want it to stop hurting' to anyone but Jack.

Manning seemed to get it anyway. "Yes," he agreed, expression kind, "but much though I'd like one sometimes, I don't have a magic wand I can wave to make things better."

"You've got kids, haven't you?" Alex asked irrelevantly, his words a little muzzy, heavy with sleep. "Maybe two. Between about seven and ten." Manning looked taken aback. "One of them's a girl. At least one of them."

"What's that got to do with this?" Manning countered, clearly wrong-footed.

Alex smiled again. "I _was_ there when you told Snake to leave," he said, "you were – all business then. You're an on-sight doctor for the SAS and you're talking about magic wands and explaining everything for me the way a kid like me would understand it. That's not something you do with the soldiers here, so you must do it at home instead. And you probably wouldn't do it for a wife or a girlfriend, so. Kids."

Manning paused for a moment, visibly nonplussed – then he chuckled. "You're all kinds of unusual, aren't you?"

Alex shrugged. Even with the pain throbbing in the back of his head and a needle in the back of his hand, his eyelids felt heavy and he could feel himself start to slacken into sleep. "S'not always a good thing."

Manning didn't press it, though even half-asleep, Alex noted the way the doctor's eyes darkened and his mouth tightened with disapproval. Instead of saying anything, however, he just stood and said, "I'll get your IV bag changed and let you get some sleep."

Alex didn't know what he mumbled as the doctor let himself out, but it earned him a warm smile, and that was enough to let him relax into sleep.

* * *

His body clock woke him, achy and disorientated, at six the next morning, despite the number of times he'd been woken during the night, but he dropped back off to sleep, exhausted, within twenty minutes, and was only woken again two hours later when he realised, in a dreamy, disconnected kind of way, that someone else was in his room.

That was all it took for him to shoot upright, the IV line jerking painfully in his skin, making pain thump through his head, insistent and overwhelming, and he had to pause for a moment before his vision cleared enough to see who was there. The fact that nothing had happened to him during that pause told him something good, at least, about the person in his room, but not enough for him to relax until he saw and identified them.

The 'someone' turned up to be a tall, whipcord thin man, familiar in the way all of the soldiers got to be after a while – a uniformed figure in a beret, nothing more. Alex could place him in his memory, he'd seen him in the mess hall and at the range, but to his knowledge they'd never talked or interacted much.

That was more than enough reason to be wary of the man.

"Cub?" The man asked, and though it was phrased as a question, there was clearly no way it could be, Alex thought. The guy wouldn't have risked using his codename if he wasn't absolutely certain of who Alex was – and it wasn't like the infirmary was overflowing with kids hooked up to oxygen tanks and IVs.

"That's me," Alex nodded, relieved by how steady and clear his voice was, not gummed with sleep.

"I'm Leopard, I lead F-Unit," the man told him, and Alex nodded, filing the information away. "HQ assigned you to work with us."

Alex paused. "On what?"

Leopard glanced away for a second, and Alex took the silent hint that he probably wasn't going to like whatever was coming next. "It was decided that your unit – that K-Unit wasn't the best unit to work with you. They've got to train up your class and HQ feels they're too close to you-"

"And they think-" Alex cut himself off sharply and nodded. "Right, I see." Leopard gave him a long look and Alex met it with blank politeness. There was more going on here than he could learn in five minutes from a first-thing-in-the-morning meeting with this man. "So I'll be – working with you?"

"Training with us," Leopard corrected, and Alex nodded, maintaining as blank a look as possible. "It'll be pretty light training, we figure that – you're set to go on combat, there's nothing we can teach you in less than a week," he settled on finally, "and we've got a good idea of your skills – er, one way and another." He gave Alex's IV line an uneasy glance.

"So what am I going to be doing?" Alex asked.

"Well, we don't know your capabilities on things like – the assault course," Leopard sounded uncertain and Alex could feel his initial dislike of this scheme crystallising into a definite aversion. "And we know you're good, but we need to know how good you'll be in an urban setting with kids around you. Er, other kids around you. And we'll need a full rundown-"

"-of my assignments?" Alex asked, a nasty feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. "Or of my skills?"

Leopard's unease grew, but his tone was level, expression outwardly confident. "Both, actually."

Alex paused, considering his reactions to this. "Who came up with the idea to assign you to training with me?" He settled on eventually, and watched as Leopard debated momentarily on what to say.

For whatever reason, he clearly decided the truth was the simplest way forward. "Colonel Roslyn, up at department HQ."

Alex nodded. "Right, and he didn't give you a brief of any kind?"

"He gave us what he had, which wasn't much, if I'm honest, Cub."

"So you know the basics, then?" Leopard nodded. "And Colonel Roslyn didn't think that, since time is such an important factor-" Alex broke off again, ignoring his aching head with the ease of practice and swinging his legs out from under the bed. He was dressed in baggy hospital-issue pyjamas, button shirt and drawstring trousers, but his clothes (thankfully neatly dried and folded) were on a chair at the end of his bed, his boots placed neatly underneath it. After pulling out the needle of the IV – Leopard probably winced more than Alex himself did – it was a moment's work to shrug into the jacket and pull his trousers on over the thin cotton of the pyjamas.

"Cub, what the hell are you-"

"This is ridiculous," Alex said calmly, "and I'm going to tell him so."

Leopard shook his head. "OK, no, seriously, what the hell? Did that hit to the head dislodge something up there?"

"No, it burst some blood vessels," Alex snapped, all out of patience. "Thank Hawk for me when you next see him, would you?" He took a deep breath. He had had it, more than had it, with blank authority figures deciding his life for him, and it surely only took half a second or so to work out a better plan than the one 'HQ', in the figure of Colonel Roslyn, had come up with. Codename or no codename, he wasn't part of the SAS and he wasn't going to jerked around by them in the same way he put up with it from MI6. He wasn't going to drag out more of his dirty past and painful memories – most of which were classified anyway! – because someone up at HQ had decided that was preferable than coming up with a simple cover-story and switching things round a bit.

Alex was drugged on codeine, in pain, half asleep and fourteen years old, and even he could see a better solution than this.

"You can't just march up to HQ and demand to see Roslyn," Leopard pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest, jaw set.

"No, _you_ can't," Alex disagreed, a little more politely. "You're one of his soldiers. I'm not, and I'm not going to- I have enough fun with MI6," he finished cryptically, tying off his bootlace and heading for the door, dodging the apparently knee-jerk move Leopard made towards him with ease, even with his head in the state it was.

He slipped out of the infirmary without being called on it by anyone else, and dodged round one of the barracks to let Leopard go on ahead. He had a vague idea where HQ was from the last time he'd been here, and although it was a fair way when he felt like this, he managed to find the Elizabethan farmhouse with some ease. He knew his appearance was dishevelled, but he was almost hoping that would count in his favour, given his rough-and-ready plan for being directed to Roslyn.

He stepped into the low hallway with wide eyes, biting his lip a little, fingers of one hand fiddling apparently absently with the edge of one pocket, and headed for the reception desk. He was somewhat out of luck – it was a young man behind the desk, in his early twenties, not an older and potentially maternal woman. Still, no reason to abandon a perfectly serviceable, if hasty, plan of action.

"Um," he managed, his voice a little thready, "I'm here to see – Mr. Roslyn? I was asked to come up here to – to, er, see him."

The young man glanced up at him and frowned, giving him a quick up-and-down look. "Did you have an appointment?" he asked, sounding almost as uncertain as Alex.

"I-I don't think so?" Alex shook his head, pasting on a look of as much terror as he felt he could get away with.

The man paused, then shrugged. "It's Colonel Roslyn, and he's on the second floor, the third door along." Anyone else and he would have called up to check with Roslyn that he was expecting him – but that was the genius of using a child. What harm could a child do? It was early in the day, nothing would have been started that couldn't be interrupted, and it was just a kid, one of the ones who had been disrupting the camp for an entire week now. Nothing to be alarmed by.

Alex stammered out his thanks, and headed for the stairs, allowing his hands to relax from their nervous movements the moment he was out of sight, allowing himself to walk a little more smoothly, a little more confidently. He knew what he was doing and there was no reason to pretend otherwise.

Two flights of stairs later, he knocked on Roslyn's door, waiting for the shout of 'enter!' before letting himself in.

"Colonel Roslyn," he said politely, shutting the door carefully and ignoring Roslyn's rather forbidding expression, "I'm Alex Rider."

The forbidding look masked any confusion the colonel might have felt on seeing him. Instead, after a moment's pause, Roslyn sat back in his chair and nodded. "I see. And what can I do for you?"

* * *

Done! For the moment, at any rate.

3.19am. I am _shattered_, so I hope everyone likes this! Now is about the time to fall into bed and sleep for a couple of weeks.

Hopefully we'll be properly done with the weekend shortly, get this minor mess with K-Unit sorted out and move on to the big messes coming up in double-time. I think they've been at the camp for plenty long enough, don't you?

Hope everyone enjoyed this! Do tell.

-amitai


	15. Chapter 15

Hallo there, my darlings! How are we all? I hope everyone's well! Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready for summer?

In order to celebrate the arrival of summer (and the finishing of my exams, the passing of my driving theory test, and the sudden and surprising appearance of a social life), here is HIOP 15! try not to faint. I know it's a shock, but everybody try to stay calm.

It is much faster than normal! And also kind of a filler chapter, but I cunningly diverted attention from that by including surprise!doped!Alex in there. I'm a freaking fic NINJA, guys. Oh yeah.

Anyway! Hopefully, after next chapter (maybe two more) we can do some cunning skip-time-y stuff and get them out of the camp and back into the planned storyline... but for the meantime, sit back, relax, and enjoy 4000 words of madness from the pen/keyboard of an exam stressed student.

I'm sure there are better ways to sell this.

Anyway! With no further ado, ladies and gentlemen, I give you, the one, the only... DISCLAIMER!: Anthony Horowitz knows never to get involved in a land war in Asia, never to go up against a Sicilian when death is on the line, and never to write fanfiction about his own creation.

_

* * *

"Um," he managed, his voice a little thready, "I'm here to see – Mr. Roslyn? I was asked to come up here to – to, er, see him."_

_The young man glanced up at him and frowned, giving him a quick up-and-down look. "Did you have an appointment?" he asked, sounding almost as uncertain as Alex._

_"I-I don't think so?" Alex shook his head, pasting on a look of as much terror as he felt he could get away with._

_The man paused, then shrugged. "It's Colonel Roslyn, and he's on the second floor, the third door along." Anyone else and he would have called up to check with Roslyn that he was expecting him – but that was the genius of using a child. What harm could a child do? It was early in the day, nothing would have been started that couldn't be interrupted, and it was just a kid, one of the ones who had been disrupting the camp for an entire week now. Nothing to be alarmed by._

_Alex stammered out his thanks, and headed for the stairs, allowing his hands to relax from their nervous movements the moment he was out of sight, allowing himself to walk a little more smoothly, a little more confidently. He knew what he was doing and there was no reason to pretend otherwise._

_Two flights of stairs later, he knocked on Roslyn's door, waiting for the shout of 'enter!' before letting himself in._

_"Colonel Roslyn," he said politely, shutting the door carefully and ignoring Roslyn's rather forbidding expression, "I'm Alex Rider."_

_The forbidding look masked any confusion the colonel might have felt on seeing him. Instead, after a moment's pause, Roslyn sat back in his chair and nodded. "I see. And what can I do for you?"_

_

* * *

_

Alex shut the door behind himself very carefully and offered the man a polite smile. "Well, frankly, Colonel, I just wanted to see for myself whether you or anyone under your command had a speck of intelligence between you."

Much as expected, Roslyn looked more than a little put-out at this opening sally. "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm assigned to work with F-Unit for the rest of my time here at the Beacons, right?" Alex asked, continuing without even bothering to wait for a reply. "I just wondered why you would bother trying to implement a scheme that has so many obvious flaws, unless it's as some kind of bizarre reverse-psychology punishment for K-Unit."

"F-Unit can devote more time to your training," Roslyn said stiffly. "This is a command decision, and I don't expect it to be questioned."

"And we all know how well not questioning orders has gone recently, don't we?" Alex returned quietly, pausing for a moment to allow the impact of his words to sink in. As Roslyn opened his mouth to retort, he continued, "your soldiers don't question your orders, that's fine, that's as expected. But I, sir, am _not_ one of your soldiers, and I'm telling you right now that your plan has holes that I don't intend to fall into. Either I train with K-Unit, or I train under them with the rest of my class, but I'm not training with a unit so wholly unprepared to teach me anything I don't already know."

"F-Unit are-"

"Clearly not acquainted with any of my past assignments and skills?" Alex asked sweetly.

"I was going to say 'more than competent'," Roslyn replied, but there was a note of interest in his voice – interest that Alex had frankly not expected. He'd expected it to be a fight from beginning to end. "Have a seat, Rider, and tell me what you think these flaws are."

Alex took one of the seats directly in front of Roslyn's desk, and paused for a second, clasping his hands in his lap, buying time to frame his thoughts. "Whatever information you've had about me from MI6 is sketchy, right?" He asked, all but certain of the reply. At Roslyn's cautious nod, he continued, "and I can't help, because even I don't know what's classified and what isn't. There's only so much I'm going to risk saying. K-Unit know the most about me out of any of the units here, I would far rather work with them than anyone else."

"I'm sorry to say that the SAS doesn't work solely to your desires, Rider," Roslyn said dryly, his eyebrow quirking.

"I don't expect it to," Alex countered, refusing to rise to the bait. "What I _do_ expect is at least some common sense when it comes to decision making – it makes a lot more sense for me to train with K-Unit than F-Unit, especially since I'm going to have less than a week to learn anything useful. After all, it's not as though I can be held accountable for the last lost week."

"Hardly lost-"

"My training was so ill-suited to me that I ended up in the infirmary," Alex snapped, his hold on his temper breaking briefly. "I'd call that lost time. Not to mention all the unnecessary time spent with my class when it would have been a moment's work to establish reasons for me to do different things – asthma, anything."

Roslyn considered it for a moment. "K-Unit are busy with the rest of your class. How would you propose I change that?"

"As far as my class are concerned, K-Unit are the reason I ended up in the infirmary," Alex pointed out, "so it's not like they would be at all surprised to hear that K-Unit were swapped out for – health and safety reasons, say."

Roslyn paused, stopped and nodded briefly. "Valid enough," he agreed reluctantly.

Alex paused, wondering whether to push his advantage or not. "Basically, Colonel, either I work with K-Unit or not at all. It's your choice."

Roslyn met his eyes in silence for a long moment, then said, "You seem to assume that we _want_ you to learn whilst you're here, Rider, and whilst we accept that your abilities are beyond those of your classmates, that's simply not the case. We are not MI6 and you are not _our_ asset."

"MI6 sent my class here to train. You weren't under any orders to single me out, but _you_ regularly separated me from my class, and since you've set that precedent, you have to stick to it," Alex said bluntly, ignoring the momentary sting at being described as 'an asset'. "Now that that's been established as a pattern, believe me, sir, no one knows better than me that you have to keep up the appearance of normality."

"We accept," Roslyn said tightly, clearly balking at being taught his job by a teenager, "that your skills have been an asset to the country in the past, but it's not our responsibility to train you to do your, may I say highly illegal, job."

"It was before," Alex pointed out, his voice low and precise, "and since you clearly agreed to allow my class to come here, it is again now. The deal was made, sir, I'm sure you know extremely well that it's just not possible to back out just because things are more difficult than you expected."

"I don't intend to 'back out'," Roslyn said, but his expression was a little less cold. "I simply don't see it as being our job to train you up so that you can put yourself in harm's way and likely get yourself killed."

"Don't sell this to me as philanthropy, Colonel," Alex said, more than a hint of disbelief in his tone. "I just won't buy it."

"Nonetheless, it's a kind of truth," Roslyn sat back and gave him a long stare. "You're an asset to the country, Rider, even the little we've got out of SIS has told me that. I don't want to see you killed aged fourteen in defence of some bratty school children."

"Thanks," Alex said dryly. "But I'm involved in this either way – I can't just stop going to school until this is all over. The best way you can protect your – 'asset'... is to make sure I have the skills to survive this – fuck-up." At the Colonel's unconvinced look, Alex pressed on. "This isn't an assignment to me, Colonel. This is my school. And believe me, it's one of the last normal things I have left in my life, and I will fight tooth and nail for it. MI6 sent me and my class here to _learn_, and I would be grateful – very, very grateful – if you would actually teach me rather than finding excuses not to. My involvement aside, I can't believe the SAS would be delighted if an entire classful of school-children, however 'bratty', was killed, not when you've been teaching them-"

"The fact that your class here at all is down to MI6, Rider," Roslyn said very dryly, in return. "It would be a tragedy, of course, but as far as we're concerned, it's nothing to us whether your class lives or-"

"Please, sir," Alex interrupted, polite but extremely firm, "I haven't spent much time with the SAS, but what I do know of you is – limited to K-Unit, actually," he admitted with a wry smile, "and believe it or not, that's allowed me believe that the SAS is at least a little more philanthropic than MI6. I don't have many illusions left, I'd be grateful if you'd let me hang on to this one."

Roslyn actually smiled at that, an honest-to-God smile which threw Alex for six. "If the scant information we received from SIS is to be believed, a few illusions are the very least we owe you," he allowed, then paused. "Rider, I cannot be seen to alter my orders on the whims of a teenager-"

"When it comes to MI6, Colonel," Alex said carefully, allowing himself to give a little more because of that sudden, unexpected smile, the unusual, welcome admission that maybe Alex damn well _was_ owed something by these people, "I've realised that I'm only allowed to stay a teenager because it suits them to have me look and act like one sometimes."

"What are you trying to say, Rider?" Roslyn asked, frowning.

"That no one's going to question if you if fudge things a bit and say that it's an order from MI6 – that they don't want more units briefed on this than is necessary, that sort of thing."

"I've received no such order-"

"I get _my_ orders from Blunt himself, I'm sure in the great scale of things, that means I can make strong suggestions, if nothing else," Alex offered him a tentative smile, which was actually returned. "And I'm sure this counts as a very strong suggestion."

"You want to work with K-Unit that badly?" Roslyn looked a little thrown and for once Alex didn't know where he was going with this. "An attachment is a dangerous thing, Rider."

"I'm – sure it is," he agreed carefully, "but it'd be a frightening thing if I wasn't able to form them, don't you think?" Roslyn still looked off-balance, and Alex continued, "and honestly, they know me. They know enough not to have to ask me questions at every turn and they know my class as well at this point. If I'm going to keep my class alive and survive this myself, they're surely the best suited to training me."

"This entire operation stinks," Roslyn said bluntly, sitting forward and leaning his elbows on his desk. Alex, used to the circumspect talking-around-the-point which had been going on, tried not to look quite as surprised as he was. "SIS have botched your handling from start to finish and this entire business worries me." He met Alex's eyes full on. "I don't like this situation and I don't like that we've been dragged into it, but since we have, I suppose the least I can do is make sure your training is adequate – however little I like that you're being trained at all."

Well-aware that Roslyn had just laid all of his cards on the table, Alex nodded. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "It – I appreciate it."

"You had better," Roslyn told him wryly. "Now get out of my office and, if you happen to see Leopard anywhere on the way, send him up. If Doctor Manning asks, you were never here."

Alex smiled. "Of course, Colonel."

"Oh, and Rider?" Roslyn's eyes were steady on Alex's when Alex looked back. "In a couple of years, should you need it – I'm sure the SAS could use someone of your talents."

Unsure of what to say, Alex nodded once – the throbbing in his head increased exponentially, now that the tension of his meeting with Roslyn was ebbing away – and left the room.

All in all, that had gone far better than expected.

* * *

The last thing K-Unit had been expecting was yet another summons up to HQ, and when D-Unit (with a rather shamefaced Wasp) turned up to take over the brats' supervision from them and to pass on the summons, it took actual willpower on Eagle's part not to ask what the hell was going on. That didn't mean he didn't demand it of his unit the moment they were out of earshot.

"Why the hell would we know?" Wolf snapped, without so much as glancing at him.

Snake glanced between them. "Calm it down. Cub's still part of our unit, right? We're probably being updated on his situation."

Eagle subsided with a mutter of rebellion, but Fox wasn't so easily assuaged. "He's only here for training," he pointed out, "and we've never been given updates on him before. Why start now, when we're no longer dealing with his training?"

Snake properly broke for the first time since the start of the whole, nightmarish situation. "I don't fucking know," he snapped, "maybe you could wait to ask all your questions till we get to HQ?"

Fox exchanged a brief look with Wolf as Snake regained a little of his customary calm, and shut up.

At HQ they were sent up to Roslyn's office immediately, and were immediately thrown off-balance by the genial reception they were given – as genial as any superior SAS officer ever was, at any rate.

"Wolf – you're K-Unit's leader, aren't you?" Roslyn said, glancing down at the file open in front of him after exchanging a couple of totally unprecedented pleasantries. (Eagle would have betted everything that Roslyn knew full well the ins and outs of their unit at this point, but that wasn't the point here, it seemed.) Wolf, thrown horribly off-balance, nodded slightly. "Give me a basic assessment of Cub."

"Cub, sir?"

"Alex Rider," Roslyn's glance was a little dismissive, a little cool, and Eagle would have given a great deal to know what the hell was going on here. "He did his preliminary training with you, didn't he?"

"Yes, sir," Wolf agreed smartly. "He's – an excellent operative," he started, still more than a little unsure, "if a little unnerving-"

"How so?" Roslyn asked, leaning forwards, hands clasped in front of him on the desk.

Wolf glanced briefly at Eagle before look back at Roslyn. "He's a child, sir," he pointed out, re-iterating Fox's words to F-Unit the day before, "His skill – er, skills – it's unusual."

"I see," Roslyn nodded and looked down. "And how's he been progressing set against the rest of his classmates?"

"He runs rings around them, sir," Wolf said. "There's just no comparison."

"And how do you think he's coping with the situation?"

"Here, sir?"

"The one he'll be facing when these children have left," Roslyn corrected, with frightening gentleness.

"I – I see," Wolf nodded, clearly thrown and trying to think fast. In a combat situation, this had always been Wolf's strong point, but he was no more at home in an office-politics situation than a secretary would have been in a war zone. "Well – he – it doesn't really-"

Eagle stepped in quickly. "If you'll forgive the interruption, sir," he said calmly, "I'd say Cub's far more worried by his class than he is by a terrorist threat."

Roslyn gave him a thin smile. "I see," he repeated. "And what would your recommendation be to F-Unit for Cub's training?"

Wolf answered quickly, eager to make up for his earlier slip. "Urban tactics," he said decisively, "get Cub used to dealing with situations where there's no camouflage and not that much cover. Teach him techniques to thin out the opposition, that kind of thing. Sir."

"MI6 have specifically requested that Rider is not given a gun," Roslyn said slowly. "How would you work round that?"

This was beginning to feel like the strangest job interview ever, Eagle reflected, glancing at Wolf as he formulated his reply. And he really wanted to know what was going on.

"Giving Cub – Rider – a gun would be impractical," Wolf said slowly. "He couldn't very well take it into school with him, after all, and we don't have the clout SIS have over this sort of thing. But there are other methods that could even out the odds – Cub's already shown himself to be apt at some of them. I think we would focus on those."

Roslyn nodded. "Well then," he said very carefully, shutting the manila folder and pushing it very slightly away from himself, "I'm reassigning you to take over Rider's training." Confused, the most they could do was exchange the briefest of glances, unable to so much as question the order. "On reflection," Roslyn continued with even greater care, "you are better suited to dealing with his training, and F-Unit are perhaps the better option for this group of children. The cover story, should anyone ask, is that you are being reassigned for health and safety reasons, since you let a child be injured on your watch."

Eagle couldn't quite suppress his wince at that.

"Yes, sir," Wolf nodded dutifully.

"For the time being, Dr. Manning is keeping Cub in the infirmary, but his injury seems to be clearing up on its own, and he should be available for light training by mid-week," Roslyn gave them all firm stares. "I will be keeping a close eye on this training, gentlemen. Dismissed."

They saluted sharply and filed out, almost more confused than they had been when they were first summoned.

"I will give a prize," Eagle said very slowly, the moment the door shut behind him, "to the person who explains to me what the hell just went on in there."

Wolf shrugged, almost helplessly, then pulled himself firmly together. "Cub's working with us again," he said, "and that's the most important thing, right? Now we've just got to make good on the whole 'training' thing we were talking about in there."

"Mmm," Fox said lazily, "nice bull-shitting there, Wolf, I'm impressed."

"He has his moments," Eagle said cheerfully, slinging an arm around Wolf's shoulders, only to have Wolf shrug it off immediately with a glare. "When he's not being touchy and moody, that is."

"Shut up, the pair of you," Wolf said, leading the way out of HQ and heading back down the gravel track to their barracks. "We'd better inform F-Unit then head up to the infirmary and check on Cub, fill him in."

"And god knows what the hell he's going to think of this," Snake said quietly.

* * *

In the infirmary, Alex eased himself back into bed, lying back with his head aching something chronic, just as Manning reappeared in the doorway, followed by an orderly. He instantly took in the pallor of Alex's face, and his eyes moved to the rumpled pile of clothing Alex had left on the chair instead of the neatly folded clothes which had been there before. Wisely, though, he chose to say nothing until the orderly had changed the IV bag and given Alex another hefty dose of painkillers.

"So, where did you head off to?" he asked bluntly, perching on the edge of Alex's bed.

"Just fancied a stroll, some fresh air, y'know," Alex said, his voice a little slurred as the painkillers began to kick in, blessedly fast.

"Mmm, I bet," Manning agreed. "You know, most of the against-medical-advice discharges don't come back again less than an hour later."

"And leave the good stuff behind?" Alex said with a slightly wonky grin. "Never."

Manning chuckled, and patted him on the knee. "Well, no more escape attempts today, young man. Rest and relaxation, then maybe you can go for another nice stroll tomorrow."

"So much to look forward to," Alex agreed and dropped off again into wonderful sleep.

* * *

By the time K-Unit arrived at the Infirmary, Alex was starting to come round again, the codeine only keeping him asleep for half an hour or so. Exhaustion sat heavily in his limbs and the painkillers made him feel disconnected and strangely unwieldy – basically unprepared to deal with his unit right now.

And he was more than doped up enough to tell them so.

"We're not planning on staying long," Snake said, his voice low and strangely soothing, the warning glance he shot at Wolf equally reassuring. If there was any member of K-Unit who could keep Wolf in line, it was definitely Snake, Alex thought to himself. Snake was the quiet one, but he didn't take anything from anyone.

It was possible he wasn't quite thinking clearly right now. He managed some vaguely questioning noise, mostly wishing that they'd just go away so he could _sleep_ a bit more. The drugged codeine-sleep might have worn off, but that didn't mean he wasn't aching to sleep away the bone-deep exhaustion.

Snake rushed to explain. "We just wanted to make sure you were in the loop – we're back in charge of your training again. That's all. And, y'know," another glance at the rest of his unit, "we wanted to make sure you were OK."

"Mm," Alex murmured. "'Course you're in charge of my training again, s'what I asked for."

Wolf frowned a little. "What?"

"Didn't want to deal with questions from – the guy. One who was here earlier," Alex's mind was definitely feeling a little fuzzy around the edges right now, and he didn't fight too hard to get to any details. K-Unit were here, Manning was nice, things were about as safe as they could be in Alex's messed up, uncertain world. "Him. And his unit. Told – that guy. Colonel. I told him so. You guys are-"

"If he says 'my best friends and I love you', I'm leaving," Eagle muttered, and Apex grinned dopily at him.

"You're my favourite," he told him, quite unashamedly. "If you guys were those little action figure things – Wolf, do you have an action figure?"

"No, kid, I don't," and for once, instead of just looking grim, Wolf actually looked like he might – _might_ – be fighting amusement.

"You should," Alex mused, and a quiet, despairing part of his mind wondered just how _strong_ that dose had been. "All of you. Little plastic action figures-"

"Right, that's enough!" Snake said quickly. "Cub, we'll come back later-"

"-and we'll bring action figures!"

"-when you're feeling a bit more _like yourself_," Snake finished firmly, giving Eagle a repressive glare. Alex waved at them as they left.

For a little while, at least, just a little while, he could float in a painkiller induced stupor and feel like all was right with the world.

* * *

And there it is! I hope you all enjoyed it and the much-shorter-than-usual wait. :D

-amitai


	16. Chapter 16

HI! So, late, yes, I know. But it is here! And... not at all the way I expected it to turn out, but it's actually better this way, believe it or not. Oh yeah, I actually have a _plan_ for this fic. Who knew, right?

Most importantly, however, this chapter is for the lovely **dameange_,_**who won a fic from me at the **help_pakistan** auction far too long ago. I'm sorry it took me so long, darling! But I hope you like it now it's here. ^_^

I have two more fics to finish up for **help_pakistan** and when they're done (hopefully tonight), I'm going to be offering a couple of fics for **help_japan**. If you would like a fic from me - Alex Rider, Merlin, Bandom, whatever you know I've written/will write in - bid, if you can! And if you want a chapter of one of my existing stories, that's also totally doable, though you may prefer just to wait, if you have the patience. (yes, that was a dig at me being a terrible updater, not you guys. :D)

Anyway! Thanks once again to **dameange** for being a wonderful, generous and patient person, and I hope you (and she!) like(s) the fic!

DISCLAIMER: Oh, so many levels of not mine.

* * *

"_If you guys were those little action figure things – Wolf, do you have an action figure?"_

"_No, kid, I don't," and for once, instead of just looking grim, Wolf actually looked like he might – might – be fighting amusement._

"_You should," Alex mused, and a quiet, despairing part of his mind wondered just how strong that dose had been. "All of you. Little plastic action figures-"_

"_Right, that's enough!" Snake said quickly. "Cub, we'll come back later-"_

"_-and we'll bring action figures!"_

"_-when you're feeling a bit more like yourself," Snake finished firmly, giving Eagle a repressive glare. Alex waved at them as they left._

_For a little while, at least, just a little while, he could float in a painkiller induced stupor and feel like all was right with the world._

_

* * *

_

"And that's why D-Unit and F-Unit here will be taking over your training," Wolf rounded off finally, looking over the kids' heads with as stern an expression as he could manage. There was a murmur of sound from the children as Wolf stepped back, but he ignored it – they were no longer his problem. He leant back against the wall of the hut and watched with vague interest as Viper stepped forwards.

"Let's start with the basics," he said, easily commanding their attention. "Why do you all think you're here?" There was silence, and he let it drag out for just a few seconds too long. Most of the kids were looking down, clearly hoping not to be called upon. "Alright then – how about this. How much danger do you think you're in?" More silence. "I'm not asking for fun," he told them. "One of you is going to have to answer."

"Well – some?" One of the braver kids tried.

"Why?"

"There were – people shot at us," the girl said uncertainly.

"That doesn't sound like 'some' danger to me," Viper said quietly. "People shooting at you is never good. Why only 'some'?"

The girl looked to the side, apparently hoping for help from her classmates. None was forthcoming. "Um – well, we're _teenagers_," she said, like this made everything clear. "Who'd want to – I mean, why would we be a threat?"

Viper nodded at her. "Good question – and that, kiddies, is lesson number one. You don't have to be a threat to be in danger."

"But – _why_? Why would they want to hurt us?"

"If we knew that, we could deal with the source problem, and you wouldn't even be here," Viper said. "But let me just get this through your heads – this is not a game, or a joke. MI6 don't tend to make jokes. You're here because they believe you to be in clear and present danger, and they can't post armed guards around you 24/7 without making you an even bigger target than you already are – or without whoever this is coming into your homes at night and killing you there instead." The ripple ran through the crowd of seated kids as they shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not saying this to frighten you. I'm saying this because you have another week here, and so far, you seem to have learnt fuck-all." The expletive was casually emphasised, and a couple of the kids exchanged glances, clearly unused to being sworn at by authority figures.

"Why us, though?" One of the boys asked, and Wolf thought of the kid lying in the infirmary, and straightened up from the wall. He could give a good guess as to why.

He left without any of the kids so much as glancing at him.

* * *

When he got back up to their barracks, he found he'd wandered into a full-out battle between Eagle and Fox as to how they should be dealing with the Cub Question. Snake appeared, as usual, to be in the role of mediator, though judging by the slight frown on his face his attention wasn't entirely focussed on the argument going on in front of him.

"-that we shouldn't spring this stuff on him right off the bat! He's good, and we know he's good, but that's absolutely no fucking reason to-"

"I'm not saying we should work the kid to death, I'm just saying, we've been floundering with his training and we've got a lot of ground to make up!"

"I _know_ that!" Eagle said, frustrated. "But it's not in _Cub's_ best interests for him to be saddled with a whole load of training which should take months to complete! Running him into the ground isn't going to do anyone any good in the long run!"

"We're not going to 'run him into the ground'! We've just gotta make sure he can do this stuff before he leaves-"

"Which he _won't_, because this is specialist stuff he should have far, far longer to learn! _If he even could_, he's a _kid-_"

"Cub's a quick study," Fox snapped back. "He'll learn it pretty fast, he knows as well as we do that he's got to-"

"And that's another thing – why the hell does _he_ have to have sole responsibility of looking out for his class anyway? He's _fourteen_, just like them, if we let them get away with being pissy little brats, then we should cut the kid some slack-"

"He's not going to _want_ us to cut him any slack-"

"Theory," Wolf interrupted them, when it looked like the fight was going to veer into the physical. They both turned to him immediately, surprised by the interruption.

"What?"

"Teach as much of it as is relevant to him as theory for a couple of days, give him a chance to rest and recover a bit," Wolf said. "We know he's clever, so let him learn it like that and see how well he can put it into practice when he gets cleared for – when he gets cleared."

"I just don't understand why Cub has to be responsible for anyone's life other than his own," Eagle said mulishly. "He's not responsible for the other kids here anymore than – you, or me."

"You're more than welcome to try and rewire his brain over the next week," Wolf said heavily. "I don't think anyone's ever told him he's _not_ responsible for something."

"That's just a _really good reason_ not to keep telling him he is," Eagle pointed out.

"Eagle, I guarantee, if we start teaching Cub how to save himself and only himself – stuff he probably already knows, can I just say – his first question will be 'and how do I save everyone else?'. It's just the way his mind seems to work," Wolf said, stretching out on his bunk.

"And that's half the problem," Eagle muttered. "The rest of it is everyone letting him believe that." He clearly had more to say, but subsided when Wolf shook his head at him. He might have more to say, but that didn't mean this was the time to say it.

Snake, who had ignored most of the exchange, turned to Wolf. "How did the hand-over go?"

"Twenty four brats who are officially no longer our problem are out being lectured by Viper on why they should take this shit seriously. The guy's some sort of fucking natural."

"They were actually listening to him?" Snake raised an eyebrow, clearly disbelieving.

"Seemed to be. I know, it shocked me too." Wolf shook his head. "Look, they're nothing to do with us anymore. Our problem is Cub."

"I still don't like that we're basically telling him that he's responsible for saving these kids' lives," Eagle said.

"Noted," Wolf said dryly. "Fine. We won't. But we do have a responsibility to make sure Cub gets out of any situation alive, which is going to involve much the same tactics." Eagle opened his mouth to protest, and Wolf sighed. "We'll tell him it's not his responsibility every damn day if it makes you happy, Eagle, just shut up, OK? I get it, the world isn't fair and Cub got a shitty deal, now _leave it be_."

Eagle looked more irritated than chastened, but subsided with a shrug. "Fine," he said simply. "I don't suppose SIS are going to let him go anytime soon, so we might as well make the most of the training opportunity."

"Thank you," Wolf said, almost sincerely. "Right. We've got no idea who these people are, and we've got no real idea why they're targeting Cub's class – though, yes, I know, we can guess," he said, before Fox could jump in – the last thing he wanted was yet more interruptions. "So we can't teach him how to deal against any one particular group. We've just got to get him up to speed on urban manoeuvres and techniques to thin out the opposition as effectively as possible."

"He's pretty good at that," Eagle pointed out, just a little rueful.

"And techniques which won't break his cover," Fox added. "His life would be a fucking misery if those brats found out he worked for MI6."

Wolf paused. "We'll deal with that later," he decided. "Cub's a fucking good operative, and he showed us he could handle stealth with the paintballing exercise, so that's an area we're probably going to have to leave up to him. We don't have time to give him anything more than a crash course on this." He paused to make sure everyone was on board, and took their silence for assent. "More importantly, we've got to teach him techniques without a gun. MI6 might be able to give him some toys, but who honestly knows what the hell they'll decide is an 'appropriate' weapon for a teenager." He paused again, thinking. "Look, Cub's probably already awake and wondering what the hell happens next, and we don't have time to faff about. We know he's not gonna get out of the infirmary for another couple of days, so we can start him on the theory-"

"If the doctor says it's OK," Snake broke in.

"Yeah, of course – and then we can start putting that stuff into practice when he's out. How's that?"

"Fine," Eagle said reluctantly. "What sort of stuff were you thinking of?"

Wolf paused then shrugged. "Like I said earlier, urban techniques and picking off the enemy without a gun, incapacitating people quickly and effectively – the basics."

"And how are we going to teach them in theory? We're not teachers, Wolf."

Wolf nodded. "I know. Time to start brainstorming, I guess."

* * *

When Alex woke, he was once more on his own in his pseudo-hospital room and the world had lost the calming, fuzzy edge the painkillers had given it last night – and unfortunately, he remembered every minute of his drugged-up interlude with horrible clarity.

"Oh, _bugger_," he muttered to himself and relaxed back into the pillow. Clearly there was no point facing the world today – it would only mock him if he did. For several long minutes, he just lay there, trying very hard not to think of K-Unit's visit last night – _action figures_, seriously – and enjoying the feeling of not having to go anywhere or do anything. Eventually, though, that started to get boring and he glanced around for something to do. Hopefully there'd be a book or something he could read.

There was nothing. His clothes were in a neat pile where he'd left them, his IV drip was still in place (and the moment he thought about it, the place where the needle had been inserted started to itch like crazy), and there was a glass of water on the plain, functional table next to the metal-framed bed, but that was it. Somehow Alex was going to have to make his own entertainment.

There was no clock in his room, but judging by how he felt and the light outside, it was probably around nine o'clock, and he was amazed he'd slept that long, considering his body had been starting to adjust to getting up at six every morning. It was most likely the drugs doing, he decided, which solved that mystery and left him, once more, at a loose end.

Half an hour later he was still trying to hit on a way to entertain himself, the pain a low throb at the back of his head, nothing like it had been when he was first brought in, and better even than the day before – whatever had been in his IV had clearly worn off in the meantime. When Dr. Manning appeared in the doorway, Alex could have kissed him.

"Good morning, Alex," Manning said, with his habitual quick smile. "How're you feeling?"

"Not too bad," Alex said, and realised he hadn't cleared his throat when the words came out a little rough and garbled.

Manning smiled again. "Got a good night's sleep, then, I suppose." Alex nodded carefully. "Well, that's good. Sleep's a great healer."

"I thought that was time?" Alex objected, and Manning shrugged.

"That too, but it's a little less readily available to us right now. Command want you out of here today – I've told them no earlier than tomorrow at the earliest, but I suspect that will be the most I can do."

"I really do feel better," Alex assured him. "A bit – headachey, but – better."

"Well, I've got you scheduled for an MRI scan later, so we'll see if that backs you up," Manning said briskly. "We'll see how the hematoma is clearing up, and if it's not doing too badly, then I shan't feel too concerned about clearing you for light duties."

Alex considered this for a second. "Um. How likely is it that it – _is_ clearing up OK?"

Manning gave him a compassionate look, which ruffled Alex just a little, though he said nothing. "That you woke up on your own, stayed awake and are coherent and together with no visible effects of brain damage of any kind is a very good sign," Manning told him. "Now, how does some delicious mess hall slop sound?"

"If I say 'disgusting', will I be kept in here longer?" Alex asked.

Manning laughed. "If you'd said 'delicious', I'd have had to refer you to a psychologist of some kind. It's all that's on offer at the moment, I'm afraid – we get our food from the mess hall just like everyone else. But if you eat something and keep it down, we can take your IV out, which I'm sure will be a relief." Alex's expression apparently spoke for him. "Excellent. I'll have an orderly bring you something to eat, and we'll see how it goes from there, how does that sound?"

Alex suppressed a grin at the doctor's wording. Now that he'd made the leap, it was so obvious that the man had children at home. "Sounds great, thank you." Manning smiled again and turned to go. "Um, doctor?" Alex asked quickly. "Is there – I mean, is there a book anywhere I could borrow, or something? I'm a bit-"

"Bored?" Manning raised an eyebrow, but his eyes were more amused than censorious. "I'll see what I can do."

"_Thank you_," Alex said, heart-felt, and Manning nodded.

"No problem," he said. "Though I don't doubt your unit will turn up any second to try and bully you into some ridiculous stunt in the name of training." With that, he left, and Alex was left to grin at the man's vitriol by himself.

* * *

A couple of hours later, after eating a disgusting mix of reconstituted eggs and half-burnt toast and actually managing to keep it down, Alex was IV-free and reading an ancient copy of _Catch-22_ someone had dug up from somewhere, when Manning reappeared.

"What did I tell you?" he said dryly. "Your unit."

K-Unit filed in past him, strangely chastened. Clearly Manning had given them strict instructions not to stress Alex out too much; he left them to it with one final, unmistakeably warning look, shutting the door behind himself.

"How're you feeling, Cub?" Wolf asked gruffly, and Alex shrugged.

"Not too bad," he said. "Apparently, I'll be out of here by tomorrow."

"That's what your doctor told us," Eagle agreed, leaning forwards. "Nice to see they've taken you off the hard stuff, at least."

There was mischief in his eyes, and Alex resisted the urge to groan, but before he could say anything, Snake was admonishing Eagle to 'play nicely', in possibly the driest voice Alex had ever heard. "Or Dr. Manning will come back in here and there'll be hell to pay."

Eagle seemed chastened by this and subsided, which left Alex to focus on Wolf, who cleared his throat. "Your training so far's been pretty useless," he pointed out, and Alex carefully didn't roll his eyes. "So we figure we've only got a couple of days to get you up to speed on urban manoeuvres and so on. What experience do you already have with them?"

"With – what?" Alex asked. "Urban manoeuvres?" Wolf nodded. "Um, well..." he thought back briefly over the assignments he'd completed. "Most of my assignments have taken place in cities. I mean, the first one was a bit unusual, I guess, but- and then Hanley and I got shot at in London, and- I mean, mostly, I'd just look for a crowd and try and get lost in it."

"Right," Wolf said slowly. "So, your knowledge is pretty basic, then?"

Alex nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess," he agreed. Wolf went to speak, and Alex continued quickly before he could get going. "Look, before we start on this – what am I supposed to be telling my class now? About what I'm doing here?"

Wolf glanced across at his unit, the shrugged. "We'll get a schedule off D- and F-Unit for what they're planning to do with your class, and make sure you're never in the same place as them – if possible, we won't even tell them you're out of the infirmary."

Eagle leant forwards. "If you do need to stay here, Cub, you should know that that's not a problem, OK?" Alex glanced uncertainly at Wolf. He was glaring at Eagle, who was, in turn, ignoring him.

"OK?" Alex agreed warily, thrown off by the unexpected reassurance. "Thank you, I guess."

"No biggie," Eagle shrugged, and Wolf broke in immediately.

"Right," he said firmly, giving Eagle a sharp glance. "We know you're good at picking off the opposition if needs be, which is good. We're going to aim to teach you how to do that without a gun, because we don't know what MI6 will be giving you-"

"Not a gun," Alex said immediately. "They've never given me a gun."

"We thought as much," Wolf said, and he sounded a little grim. "So we're going to be focussing on what you can do without one. You're clearly good at one-on-one combat, and I'm guessing your awareness when you're fighting a group is better also?"

Alex shrugged, carefully non-committal. "I guess," he said awkwardly. "I mean, yes, it is, but – no one ever really gave me any instruction on it. They just did their level best to beat the shit out of me."

"And yet, Hawk ended up in the infirmary first," Eagle said. He looked almost smug about it.

Alex shared no such feelings. "Yeah," he agreed uncomfortably. "He did."

"OK," Wolf said, with another hard look at Eagle, who once again ignored him. "We'll work on some techniques for thinning out a group with just hand-to-hand stuff. So, what's your main tactic?"

Alex floundered for a second. "Honestly, I mostly make sure whoever I'm fighting underestimates me and then I kick them in the balls," he said bluntly. Fox winced just a little.

"Well, we can pretty much assume that they're going to underestimate you," Wolf pointed out, but Alex shook his head.

"Unless they know who I am," he pointed out. "And I've thought about this, they must do. I can't think of any other reason for them to be attacking my class specifically. And I guess there are a lot of coincidences in my life, but I think this one would be a bit _too_ convenient, you know?" Wolf frowned. "If they know who I am, they're not going to underestimate me. They're more likely to _over_estimate me and bring – bloody Uzis to the party." He cut himself off before he could give in to the hysteria he could feel lurking in his stomach.

"One thing at a time, OK?" Snake said, his voice very calm, and Alex relaxed a little. Snake's expression was patient and he looked weirdly sympathetic for a guy Alex had never seen look anything other than impassive. "This is shit for you, we know, but we also have a rough idea what else you've done, so – hold onto that thought."

"I am," Alex muttered, the hysteria only a little abated. "It's not really helping. It's nothing like this."

"Why not?" Snake asked patiently.

"My – my _class_ wasn't involved in them," Alex snapped, saying out loud the thing he'd been thinking all along. "I'm _good_, I know that, but I don't have to deal with other people, I'm not like you guys, I can just – go in and get it over with and I don't have to worry much about what people are going to think afterwards because _no one will know what I did_."

Wolf, who had been looking increasingly uncomfortable, broke in quickly. "Look, Cub, this stuff you should go over with your therapist, OK?" Snake gave him a quick, hard look, and Alex swallowed. "But you _can_ do this. And in the meantime, let's just focus on teaching you how to, OK? You and Snake can have a heart-to-heart about it later."

Alex suddenly felt horribly vulnerable in a way he hadn't thought to before, sat in the impersonal hospital bed in too-big borrowed pyjamas, weirdly childlike set next to four fully-grown men in combat gear. "Yeah," he managed. "Yeah, OK." He wished he'd thought to get dressed, then wondered inanely whether Manning would have allowed him too. "Right, so, where do we start?"

* * *

Between them, they drilled Alex on the basic theory of what was essentially concentrated urban guerrilla warfare, trying their best to make it relevant to his current situation, only breaking a couple of hours later when Manning returned to check on Alex.

"You can spare him for ten minutes for me to check on him," he said stiffly, when Wolf went to protest. Wolf, Alex knew, was the kind of guy who liked not to stop until things were sorted, and he would much have preferred to power on through. Unfortunately Alex, who was normally much the same, could feel the headache building behind his eyes – though it thankfully seemed to be a normal, information-overload headache rather than a 'bleeding into the brain' headache. The little bubble of hysteria grew when he realised that he was actually able to make a distinction between those.

This was the kind of headache he got in maths class, he thought, and bit his tongue to stop the hysterical laugher from escaping.

K-Unit had filed out, leaving Alex with Manning, whose face relaxed the moment the door shut behind them. "How's it going with them?" he asked, coming over and almost absently checking Alex's pupils.

Alex could have sworn what he had meant to say was 'fine', but what came out was a rather choked, "I can't do this."

Manning pulled back, hand falling to Alex's shoulder. "What?"

"I can't do it," Alex repeated simply, the words making more and more sense. "I can't – I can't deal with any of this, with them, with-" he broke off sharply, and the doctor squeezed his shoulder briefly.

"Right, that's enough," he said, but Alex didn't think he was talking to him. "You're done for today. I'll tell them so, and then I think you could use some sleep and I'll see about referring you to someone you can talk to," his mouth, when he stopped talking, was pressed very thin. "This is ridiculous."

"No!" Alex said, louder than he meant to. "I need – I mean, I can't just stop, I have to-"

"Alex, you are _fourteen_," Manning said, not sharp but firm. "This whole – _mess_ would be stressful for an adult, but you are neither capable of nor required_ to_ deal with this kind of thing."

"You can't do anything about it," Alex said dully. "And I'd rather get it over with. I just – hate waiting around for something to happen, that's the worst part. And I never know what it's going to be next, it could be – it could be my class being bastards because they're fucking – I don't know, Jack thinks they're scared of me, but – I don't _know_, or it could be fucking _terrorists_ trying to kill everyone, or MI6 telling me they're sending me to-"

"I'm going to stop you right there, Alex," Manning said, his hand a comforting weight on Alex's shoulder still. "Maybe I can't do anything about it, but I would be a poor doctor if I didn't do my best to try anyway."

"Your kids won't thank me if you lose your job over it. MI6 can do that."

"Thankfully, the SAS isn't required to listen to MI6 over personnel choices," Manning said gently. "And at the very least, we can give you a bit of respite in the meantime, and some help for all this stress you're under, OK?"

Alex suddenly, strongly wanted Jack, and wished more than anything he hadn't blurted out how he was feeling like that. It was abundantly clear that Manning was about to start a fruitless one-man crusade to get him out from under MI6, and Alex knew from personal experience that that never ended well. "It was – I'm just tired," he said, putting the full force of his experience with lying behind the words. "I'm really tired. It just slipped out, I'll be fine when I'm better. I'm really good at this, you know."

Manning's expression didn't change in the slightest. "I'm sure," he agreed. "But that doesn't mean you have to be all the time."

"Really, I'll be fine," Alex tried one more time, then knew instinctively he was weakening his case by insisting like that. Now that his tension had ebbed a little bit, he just felt stupid and a little embarrassed, horribly aware that he'd trapped himself in the unenviable position of either being forced to sit back and _know_ that his class were in danger, or having to insist that he _wanted_ to work for MI6 – neither of which were things he actually felt. _Catch-22_ indeed. He suppressed a sigh and let Manning pat him on the shoulder comfortingly. It was at least a relief to know that he had support from the man, and he was genuinely grateful for that fact, but he mostly just wished the entire nightmare was over. "Could I talk to Snake, please?"

"Of course. Which one's he?" Manning asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Blond, Scottish," Alex said, lying back down when Manning nodded that he could.

"I'll send him right in," he promised, already heading for the door.

* * *

Manning shut the door to Alex's hospital room behind him carefully and nodded at the unit who were waiting outside. "Just you," he nodded at the blond one, Snake. "The rest of you, you'll have to wait. If, and only if," he said to Snake, "he says he can handle it, you can call the rest of them back in. And exercise a little judgement as to whether you think he's actually up to it, would you? Try."

Snake baulked a little at that, but nodded after a second's hesitation.

Manning nodded and turned away. He had to write up several reports in this kid, and make an appointment with – he was fairly sure Colonel Roslyn was overseeing the children's stay at the Beacons. He had an appointment to make with the man.

* * *

And, done! There you have it. Whatch'all think?

-ami xx


	17. Chapter 17

Well, all I can say is 'I'm sorry'. I'm sorry these chapters take so long – despite my extraordinary track record with this, I never set out intending to be that person who only updates once every year. In my defence, I've spent the last year getting my degree, and sorting out my MA, but I know it's very frustrating to be left hanging for so long with no indication that a story is going to be updated again. And really, I am very sorry about that, I know it's a stupid amount of time to be left waiting for an update – but this last year has been a bit nuts, and I suspect all the years of my life from now till retirement (should I ever manage to get a job) are going to be a bit nuts. Let me just assure you now that, even though it takes me approximately four thousand years to get a chapter out, none of my fics are abandoned. Not even the ones that haven't been updated since 1833. They're all planned out in my head, and one day (one day!), they will be written. I can promise you that much, even if I do seem to be writing at a speed which will mean the last chapter of my last fic will only be posted at the last syllable of recorded time.

I don't enjoy leaving you all hanging the way I do, and I know it's irritating. But until someone can pay me to sit around and write fic (sadly illegal D:), I've got to continue on doing the things which might, in the fullness of time, get me a decently paid job (ha!). There are people out there who can lead full and busy lives and still update regularly, and I admire them with a reverence normally accorded to spiritual leaders, but I am sadly not one of them – so, please accept my apologies, and continue on being the awesome, understanding, supportive people that you are. I've loved getting your reviews, and loved hearing that people still enjoy this fic, and been more grateful than I can say to those of you who've told me that you understand how much RL can take over and take precedence, and that you've enjoyed reading anyway, despite the stupidly long waits. You are awesome. I adore you.

Enjoy the fic, I'm writing it for you. (VERY VERY SLOWLY. ARGH.)

But first, for one night only – THE DISCLAIMER!: We've talked about this.

* * *

"I agree completely," Roslyn said wearily, "but we are in no position to take on MI6, and the boy is their operative. And I can't take the risk that if we make things uncomfortable for them, _they_ will make things uncomfortable for Rider."

"It is ridiculous," Manning said again. "_More_ than ridiculous, it's obscene. He's fourteen years old and he didn't sign up for this. Even if he had, he couldn't have properly consented to it. Because he's _fourteen_."

"I _know_, Doctor," Roslyn said. "And if there was anything the SAS could do, I promise you, we would be doing it by now. But believe me, there isn't."

"Not even petition to extend his training?" Manning suggested, hope tingeing his voice.

"Why would you want to do that?" Roslyn frowned.

"Alex needs to see a psychiatrist," Manning said bluntly. "He needs to talk to someone about this mess they've caught him up in, and a week isn't going to cut it."

Roslyn sighed. "I can't do it, doctor. I told you, if I could, I would, but the fact is, Alex Rider is not our operative, and we can't get into this mess with MI6. However," he held up a hand when Manning opened his mouth, "I will strongly suggest to them that he should be given a full psychological evaluation."

"Are you telling me you believe that MI6 will pay a blind bit of notice to such a request?" Manning asked, one eyebrow raised.

Roslyn sighed heavily. "No, I'm not. And unfortunately, I suspect the only way to get them to pay attention will be to point out that inot/i doing so will lose them a valuable operative."

Manning shook his head. "Then don't do it," he said firmly. "I'm not going to ask you to make a suggestion which will get that poor boy even more tangled up in this nonsense."

"Then what would you have me do?" Roslyn asked heavily.

"Who are his parents? Can you get in touch with them?"

"If he had parents, do you think he would be in this position?" Roslyn returned. "He has a guardian, I think. But MI6 are understandably close-mouthed about this boy, I've no idea who it is."

"I'll ask Alex," Manning said, standing. "Thank you for seeing me, Colonel."

Roslyn stood also and nodded, once. "My pleasure, doctor. Feel free to refer Rider for whatever help you think he needs, but remember that we can't keep him here. Once he leaves, he needs to be prepared for whatever's after these children."

"It shouldn't be his job," Manning said again, with just a hint of bitterness.

"I know. But while it is, I can't in good conscience let him be unprepared for it."

Manning left without another word.

* * *

Alex himself was still with Snake. "Look, I just – I freaked out, OK? I just – had a bit of a moment. But I'm _fine_ now."

Snake gave him a long look. "I think you're lying," he said simply.

"That's not my problem!" Alex snapped. "Just – get the rest of your lot in here, and we can continue."

Snake paid no attention to him and sat down in one of the chairs by Alex's bed. "What's going on, Cub? You don't strike me as the kind who just 'freaks out'. So what's up?"

Alex glared at him. "I freaked out," he repeated firmly. "This is _way_ outside my jurisdiction, OK? The stuff I do is _totally separate_ from my school, and I don't like having them here, and I don't like knowing that they're in danger. So I'm _sorry_ if I shouldn't freak out, but I _did_, and that's all. It's over now."

"Bollocks it is," Snake returned. "What if you freak out when there's clear and present danger? What if your desire to keep what you do a secret stops you from helping your classmates?"

"That's _different_," Alex said hotly.

"Why?"

"Because then I'm – I'm doing my job, I'm – it's just _different_!" Alex knew what he wanted to say – that when he had something to do, when there was an obvious threat, he got things done. The added element of his classmates was something new, though, and he knew it. He slumped a little. "I can't keep my classmates safe _and_ in the dark," he said finally, defeated. "It's one or the other."

"And which are you going to choose?" Snake asked quietly.

Alex narrowed his eyes. "You know which one I'm going to choose," he snapped. "I only really have one option, don't I?"

"Cub, what I want to know is this," Snake said, leaning forward. "You'll save your classmates, I respect that, truly. But I'm worried that you'll let yourself get killed to save them _and_ protect your secret. That's the third option I'm seeing here, and I don't like it."

Alex looked away. He hadn't thought of that before, but it left him with a nasty taste in his mouth; it was the perfect way out, except he didn't want – and never had wanted – to die. "I'm not going to do that," he said quietly. "I won't."

"Prove it to me."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Alex snapped. Snake shrugged.

"Walk me through it. Why aren't you going to do it?"

"I don't want to die!" Alex said heatedly. "This mess isn't my fault, and I'm not going to conveniently let myself get killed to clean it up for people who've never done anything except – treat me like _shit_!"

Snake sat back and nodded. "Good," he said quietly. "That's good, Cub."

Alex frowned. "What?"

"Way I see it," Snake said quietly. "You've got to accept two things-"

"No," Alex said, really angry now. "I don't have to accept _anything_. MI6 got me into this mess, this isn't my _fault_, and I don't have to do anything to get myself out of it."

Snake frowned back at him. "What?"

Alex thought back on everything Tom and Manning had been saying and bit his lip. "This isn't my problem," he repeated, letting the words fall heavily. "And I don't have to fix it. I can tell you right now what MI6 are going to say: that if I follow it to the source, then it'll be over and done with. But why should I have to? If it were any other group of schoolkids, they'd have armed guards around them the whole time, they'd be safe and protected." He paused, and huffed a laugh, more tired than bitter. "Actually, that's a lie. Why would they send armed guards when they could just send me?" He shook his head. "But why do _I_ have to be the first line of defence for people who hate me anyway?

Snake took a deep breath, then let it go again. "I don't know, Cub. How are MI6 even getting you to work for them in the first place?"

And that was the problem. "Jack," Alex said tiredly. "They'll threaten to deport Jack."

"Jack?"

"My guardian." Alex lay back against his pillows, all the fight draining out of him.

"I thought MI6 were your guardians?" Snake said slowly.

"It's complicated," Alex said, and had to swallow down the insane urge to laugh. Nothing about this was funny. "She's looked after me ever since I was little. She's American, her visa's expired. They'll deport her and put me in a home."

Snake, who had come in with the full intention of getting Cub back on his feet and back into the right mindset, found himself suddenly and firmly on Eagle's side. "I don't know what to say," he said finally, after the silence had stretched out uncomfortably.

"And I don't want my classmates to die," Alex said woodenly. "Which they will, if I leave this up to MI6. I mean, no one knows better than me that MI6 won't lift a finger to help anyone if it isn't in their interests." He sat up and shook his head. "Call 'em back in," he said, and Snake wished he knew what he could say to get the weariness out of the kid's voice.

But he didn't, so he stood and went to the door without looking back.

* * *

Snake paused in the corridor for a moment before going to fetch the rest of his unit, considering. The doctor had told him to 'exercise some judgement', which had stung, but faced with how Cub was actually doing, he had no idea what the options were anymore. On the one hand, Cub clearly wasn't doing so well. Physically, maybe, he was getting better, but mentally? That was a whole different ball game, and Snake wasn't sure how to react. Cub probably shouldn't be memorising urban warfare tactics at that moment, but then, he shouldn't be doing _any_ of the things he was doing, and that clearly hadn't given anyone a moment's pause before. Then again, leaving him to stew also wasn't an option, so.

Snake huffed out a breath and went to brief his unit.

"So," he said, addressing himself almost solely to Wolf, "this is fucked up."

Wolf raised an eyebrow. "What gave it away?" he asked bitterly, and Snake gave him a look. "What is it this time?" Wolf asked, backing down after a moment's silence.

"That kid's head is all over the place," Snake told him bluntly. "He's been screwed six ways to Sunday and back again, and I don't think lessons are what he needs right now."

"_Thank_ you!" Eagle burst out. "Jesus, I've only been saying that for-"

"Maybe it's not what he needs right now," Fox cut across him, "but he won't be thanking us in a week's time when he's faced with protecting-"

"Shut up," Snake said firmly, to both of them, already foreseeing them hashing it out for the rest of the day. "Look, all I'm saying is, right now, he needs help sorting shit out, not the good angel and the bad angel perched on his shoulder, playing comforter and devil's advocate, OK? So unless you two can keep quiet, you can leave now."

Neither of them moved, and Wolf, after glancing between them, turned back to Snake. "What are you suggesting?" he said, with surprising calm.

Snake shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know," he admitted after a moment's pause. "But shit, the kid's messed up, Wolf. He's gotta _know_ that these things aren't normal."

"Oh, he knows," Eagle said bitterly. "He knows that as well as we do. Knowing it's not normal doesn't mean he can stop, though."

"And we've got our orders," Fox said quietly. "Oh, don't give me that bollocks, Eagle," because Eagle had drawn himself up and was glaring at him, "I think this whole thing is a shitfest from start to finish, but the fact is, we won't be there when his class gets attacked again. I've got a vested interest in making sure he comes out of it alive."

Eagle deflated. "Shit," he said miserably. "_Shit_. There isn't a right answer, is there?" For a split second, he didn't look anything like the competent, professional soldier his unit knew him to be – then he gathered himself in, standing a little taller. Of all of them, Snake thought, Eagle had got closest to the kid, and of all of them, this mess was hitting him hardest. "OK. So, what do we do?" He was looking at Snake, who could only shrug.

"Whatever's going on with that kid is wrong," he said slowly, "but he's got to get through this, at least, and that we can help him with."

"And after that?" Wolf asked, drawn in to caring about the kid apparently against his will. "What then?"

Snake shrugged again helplessly. "I don't know. We haven't got the clout to go up against MI6 – I'm not sure the SAS as a whole has the clout to do that. It's pretty likely that if we try, we'll only succeed in making life worse for the kid; they're holding his guardian over him, threatening to deport her if he doesn't-" he broke off. "Perform," he finished, after a brief but horrible pause. "I can see them deporting her and spiriting him away if they think it's necessary."

"Which they will," Cub said from the doorway. "They will absolutely think it's necessary if you go digging, so let's not try that, OK? I'm feeling pretty underprepared for this nonsense, though, and that's something we can fix. Shall we?" he disappeared back into his room, leaving K-Unit staring at each other.

"Brave little shit, isn't he?" Eagle said, impressed.

"Colonel Roslyn," Snake said quietly, to Wolf, as they filed out. "We need to go and see the Colonel."

Wolf glanced at him and nodded. "Alright. But you're doing the talking."

* * *

The second session with Cub was wildly different to the first. After grilling him on their earlier information dump – and being pleasantly surprised at just how much information the kid had retained – Wolf hadn't tried to pump anymore information into the kid. A flicker of a glance gave away his intentions to his team, and they slid effortlessly into a series of scenarios, designed to test the kid's knowledge and how well he could adapt the information he'd been given to fit any situation.

It didn't surprise them that Cub was a natural – there had to be something about the kid to make MI6 so very desperate to hang onto him – but Snake actually found himself enjoying the whole thing, twisted as that was. Cub had a natural flair for this kind of tactical planning, and was clearly enjoying the mental exercise in a way he hadn't enjoyed the earlier flow of rather dry information Wolf had monologued at him. It was equally clear, however, that he was pushing away all thoughts of having to apply this to his classmates in the near future.

* * *

The doctor finally interrupted their session with Cub nearly three hours later, just as Cub looked to be starting to flag.

"Right, out," he said peremptorily, staring Wolf down before he even began to protest.

Wolf wasn't even trying – they had maybe twenty minutes before the Colonel went off-base for the night, and every minute would count.

"Rest up, Cub," he said absently, and Eagle ruffled the kid's hair.

"Try going over the stuff in your head," Fox advised. "We'll drill you on it when you're back on your feet."

Snake glanced at the doctor. "Any ideas when that will be?" he asked, not letting himself glance at Cub.

The doctor shrugged. "Within the next couple of days," he said carefully. "Ideally, I'd keep Alex here in for a little longer, to be absolutely sure, but I'm told that we don't have that kind of time. I'm not having him return to his classmates, though. He'll be sleeping here, where we can keep an eye on him, and keeping decent hours." He gave them all a long, hard look. "That means no training before nine, and none after six," he added firmly.

"That works just fine, doc," Eagle said easily. "It'll keep him out of the way of his classmates, and out of the way of any awkward questions."

Cub cleared his throat. "I do enjoy it when you all plan my life for me," he said sweetly, and the doctor laughed a little, while Eagle looked taken aback.

"Sorry," the doctor told him, and Cub shrugged it off.

"It's all true," he admitted, "I just thought I'd remind you I am actually here."

"Difficult to forget," Eagle said, forcing a smile.

Cub looked bleak for a brief half-second before forcing a smile of his own. "Oh, you'd be surprised," he murmured, and Eagle's smile vanished.

Snake spotted an opening and took it. "We'll be off," he said, half to the doctor, and half to Cub. "We'll see you in the morning, Cub – doctor, if we don't see you, leave us instructions and we'll listen to them."

"I'd expect no less," the doctor said gravely, and turned away, already dismissing them.

Snake met Wolf's eyes, and jerked his head at the door. Nodding, Wolf offered Cub a gruff goodbye, and led his unit out.

* * *

"Rider seems to have a gift for making champions out of those who work here," Colonel Roslyn said, his voice impressively non-committal. The four of them were standing at ease in front of his desk; Snake had laid out their concerns as clearly as he could, trying to find a decent balance between decently respectful and firm. It had been a hard battle, and one he wasn't entirely sure he'd won – particularly since the Colonel seemed more amused than impressed. "You're the second lot I've had in here petitioning for him."

"Sir, SIS shouldn't be doing any of this," Snake began, when it looked as though the Colonel wasn't about to say anything further.

"Oh, I agree entirely," Roslyn nodded. "I'm just not sure what you expect me to be able to do about it. The SAS only overlaps with the SIS on assignments where they need trained muscle. Rider's trained, but he's not muscle, and he's not our soldier. This is out of our remit."

"Surely Command-"

"Command serves its country, as do you," Roslyn said quietly. "Rider has, in the past, been an indispensable asset to that country. I doubt Command is feeling philanthropic enough to go into a battle with MI6 over him when they're nominally working for the same goal."

"I don't like their methods, sir," Wolf said, speaking up for the first time, and Roslyn turned surprised eyes on him.

"I don't recall them asking you to, Lieutenant," he said simply, looking down at some paperwork on his desk.

"Excuse me, sir," Wolf said, quiet but firm – Snake allowed himself to be impressed. "But I've been proud to serve my country, and proud to be part of the SAS. And now I find that I've been serving a country that's happy to use a child to do their dirty work for them. I understand that sometimes the ends justify the means, but I can't see what ends justify these ones – I won't believe that an adult can't do Cub's job. Perhaps not as easily, perhaps not even as well, but anyone who's signed up to serve knows that it won't always be easy, and it leaves a bad taste in my mouth that SIS has taken easy route when it's also so – wrong. Sir."

Roslyn was looking at him, eyes calm and steady. "And as I said, Lieutenant, I agree entirely. Do you think I don't? To find that SIS have been using a child shook me. To realise that there's nothing I can do about it stung. But those are the facts, and we have to face them."

"Is there _nothing_ we can do, sir?" Eagle asked, eyes front.

"Keep in touch with the boy," Roslyn said very quietly. "You understand, if anyone asks you about this, I will deny it, but make sure to touch base with him every so often. If he needs it, you can be a safe place for him. I'll turn a blind eye – to an extent – to whatever methods you need to use to do that, but I have a feeling that pretty soon, that boy is going to need somewhere to turn, and he might as well turn here. If nothing else, we can offer protection." He shrugged. "I'm sorry to tell you, though, that officially, our hands are tied. If we meddle with MI6, there's a high chance that they'll meddle back. We haven't got the clout or the government support to deal with that."

Wolf nodded; Snake sighed. Even Eagle was silent. To Snake's surprise, however, Fox didn't let it go. "Of course, sir," he said, due respect in every syllable. "But Cub's training is significantly out of date, wouldn't you say?"

"Excuse me?" Roslyn asked with a faint frown.

"He's an asset to our country," Fox explained politely, "but as far as I'm aware, he had less than two weeks of training at the beginning and none since. He's fourteen, he's growing. He needs a lot more training, possibly specialised stuff – and aren't there school holidays coming up soon? Perhaps Command could liaise with SIS over his instruction, arrange for him to come to us for, say, a month? Over the summer? For further – training. We could arrange for him to be drilled in night ops and standard interrogation techniques, I'm sure he'd find that useful – particularly since the SAS has dealt with him twice now. It would only be appropriate. And perhaps the doctor-"

"Dr. Manning?"

"Yes, sir – perhaps he might like to give his medical opinion as to whether or not Cub might not benefit from updated training."

Roslyn looked thoughtfully at Fox. "So long as we don't make it seem too – bleeding heart, I suppose it's possible," he conceded.

"As you said, sir," Fox said, copying Eagle, eyes straight forward, "Command don't make a habit of bleeding-heart philanthropy."

Roslyn paused for a bare second before nodding. "I'll see what Command say," he said, and gave them all a long look before speaking again. "I want to hear that Rider has survived for long enough to make this worthwhile," he said finally. "I'm trusting you to make that possible, and I have every faith that you can do it, so don't disappoint me." Another second's pause, then he nodded again. "Dismissed."

They filed out, and Eagle clapped a hand on Fox's shoulder as the door shut. "Inspired," he said simply, but he looked relieved. "Seriously, inspired."

Fox shrugged. "I've been trying to tell you," he said quietly. "I don't like what they're doing, but there's nothing _we_ can do to stop them. All we can do is make things better for Cub, and we can, so let's try."

Wolf shifted. "We're going to miss evening meal if we chat any longer," he said irritably, and turned down the stairs, followed by his unit.

"And you," Eagle added, addressing the back of Wolf's head, "I didn't know you had it in you, mate. All that about serving your country and feeling betrayed? Heartwarming."

"Shut up," Wolf said gruffly. "It's true, anyway."

"Oh, I know. I just didn't think _you'd_ be the one to say it."

* * *

Left back in the infirmary with Manning, Alex tried to freeze him out, with very little success.

"Everything alright?" Manning asked, checking his chart.

"Fine," Alex said a little shortly, then sighed. "Sorry. I'm fine."

"Well, you seem to be doing well," Manning said, hooking the chart back onto the end of the bed. "Physically, that is. How were that lot?"

"They were fine." He stretched and swung his legs over the bed. "Can I have a shower?"

"Of course you can," Manning told him, giving him a piercing look. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Better after a shower," Alex said quietly.

"Anything to say other than 'I'm fine'?" Manning asked, turning away to examine Alex's drip, unused now.

"Nothing else to say," Alex said, looking down at his knees. He wasn't going to risk saying anything more that had to be unsaid.

"Come on," Manning said very quietly, sitting down on the empty chair. "You've got feelings, thoughts. Tell me."

"I don't need a shrink," Alex said firmly.

"I disagree, Alex," Manning returned. "I want you to get a psych eval, if nothing else. I think you could use one. And I think if MI6 can be convinced to give you one, you'll end up benched for a good long while."

"That bad, huh?" he said, trying for levity.

Manning gave him a long, sympathetic look. "You're fourteen, Alex, and you've seen horrors most grown men haven't. I'd say you need a good long period of recuperation, and a great deal of counselling."

"Which I won't get," Alex said quietly.

"Look at it logically, Alex-"

"You're dreaming," Alex interrupted, without heat. "They don't care that I'm underage and it's illegal. Even if I'm as bad as you think I am? They're not going to care that I'm not psychiatrically sound."

Manning was silent. "I think you could use the help anyway," he said. "They might not bench you, but they will want you to be mentally sound. You could use that."

"I think you've got some pretty hefty misconceptions about MI6," Alex said firmly. "And I don't want anyone digging around in my head. _I_ don't want to go digging around in my head."

"That might be the point," Manning said quietly.

"I'm not interested," Alex told him. "I'm not going to let you get in between me and MI6."

"How do you propose to stop me?" Manning asked, his eyes kind. "You're not going to go to them and tell them that I'm digging around, because that would get me fired, possibly killed or removed some other way, and I think you like me enough not to want that."

"I'm a spy," Alex said, looking up and meeting Manning's eyes for the first time. "I'll do what I have to."

"You're a child," Manning countered, "and I don't believe that. You don't want me digging around, that's fine. You don't want a psych evaluation, I'll agree. But you need someone to help you, Alex. If you don't want me to do anything official, well, I think you're making a mistake, but fine. But I think I could be some help, someone to turn to, if you want."

"Alright," Alex said, without meaning it. Manning had been nice; he didn't intend to get him dragged in any further than he already was. Manning had two young kids, and a good job, and Alex knew the price people who tried to help him paid.

Manning didn't look particularly convinced, but he stood and smiled. "I'll see about getting you a towel. The shower's along the corridor."

* * *

Between Eagle's rather forced levity and Wolf's increasingly relaxed replies, K-Unit were practically cheerful by the time they made it to the mess hall.

Having got their slop and sat down, Wolf was all for thrashing out their plans with Cub further, but they were stymied when Jackal tentatively placed his tray down. "Hi," he said carefully. "You mind?"

"It's not the school dining-room, Jackal, sit down," Wolf said shortly, applying himself to the mush calling itself mashed potato.

The rest of B-Unit sat down, all wearing a variety of awkward looks. The only one who looked calm was Bear, and there was tension around his mouth, for all he looked at ease.

"We've got a proposition," Jackal said, after a couple of minutes of awkward silence. Wolf raised an eyebrow, and Jackal settled a little more comfortably into his chair to hide his awkward shift.

"Oh?" Eagle said, when Jackal said nothing.

"You've got Cub's training now, right?" he said finally.

"And?" Fox asked, bristling a very little.

"And we think we could help," Jackal said firmly, not letting himself betray any uncertainty.

Wolf snorted. "Really."

"Look, I like the kid – no, listen to me," Jackal said quietly when Wolf scoffed. "I do, and we want to help. We'll leave Hawk out if you like, though I don't think he's any danger to Cub-"

"He put the kid in the infirmary," Wolf said, and hid his own wince, remembering just how badly he'd failed Cub in that respect.

"He's in therapy for it," Jackal pointed out sharply, and took a deep breath. "I'm not here to talk about that. I'm just saying, we want to help. We've got a lot of making up to do to the kid, we fucked up, and-"

"If this is about getting into MI6's good books," Eagle began, and Jackal waved an impatient hand.

"Of course it isn't," he started, and Bear took over before things could get any more heated.

"Our unit specialises in urban close combat," he said simply, taking advantage of the relative newness of his return, the slight reserve his fellow soldiers still treated him with, nearly two months after his retrieval. "We're best suited to help Cub deal with this, and we want to. You can say no, and that's fine, but just think about letting us help, OK? We want to. I liked Cub. I think he's scary as hell, mind, but I liked him, and we owe him, so we'll help out if we can and you want us to."

K-Unit was silent for a couple of seconds before Wolf glanced at Eagle, a look that very clearly said it was Eagle's call. Eagle, in turn, glanced at Snake, who nodded.

"Alright then," Eagle said gruffly, in the novel position of talking for his unit, still remembering his last serious run-in with B-Unit; he and Hawk had clashed significantly over Hawk's treatment of Cub, and his lingering resentment, mixed with his growing remorse, was an uneasy mix. "Cub'll be staying in the infirmary, but he should be cleared for duty pretty soon; we'll let you know."

"No combat," Snake said firmly.

"Some combat," Wolf countered, flicking a glance at him. "Slowed down and safe, though."

"He's weak with weapons other than guns," Cobra began, but they were interrupted when a group of the other brats stopped by their table.

The leader of them was the tiniest teenager Eagle had ever seen, and slight into the bargain, but his eyes were bright and his face set – the kid who'd followed him halfway to the infirmary when Cub had taken his tumble off the zipwire. It was difficult not to admire the kid's nerve, even as Eagle geared up for a truly epic bitchfit from Wolf.

"What?" Wolf asked gruffly, ever true to form. "You want F-Unit-"

"We want to know how Alex is," the ringleader said firmly. "You said you'd keep me informed." This last was addressed to Eagle, who actually had to hide a grin – he'd never been called to book by a teenager before.

"Eagle wasn't authorised to make that decision-" Wolf began stiffly, but the kid actually interrupted him.

"I don't care who's authorised to make decisions," he said, looking a little scared by his own daring, but resolute nonetheless, "and I want to know how Alex is. We all do." He jerked his head at the two kids standing behind him – a girl and a boy, both a little pale but standing their ground.

Wolf put down his cutlery very carefully, and leant his elbows on the table, evidently gearing up for some kind of sinister speech, when Snake got there first. "He's fine," he said evenly. "A little shaken up, and he's got a bad concussion, but he's going to be absolutely fine. He shouldn't be here, of course, with his asthma-"

"And his dodgy heart," Eagle put in, getting into the spirit of things and receiving a kick under the table from Snake for his pains.

"Or his weak immune system," Fox added, shooting a look of unholy amusement at Eagle, and presenting the kids with a bland smile.

"-but he'll be just fine," Snake finished, giving both his teammates a look which promised death.

"Can we see him?" the other boy asked, and Snake gave them a considering look.

"I'll give you directions to the infirmary," he said finally, after a long pause. "It's up to his doctor."

The tiny ringleader shrugged. "I already know how to get to the infirmary," he said, pointedly careless. "Just wanted to check it was OK." And, Eagle realised, to flag up that they'd broken a promise.

So when Wolf drew himself up, irritated by the boy's dismissive tone, Eagle jumped in. "Of course it's OK. You want to visit your little friends, you go right ahead."

The kid treated him to an incredible bitchface – Wolf should have taken notes – and shrugged again. "Thanks," he said, packing as much disdain into one syllable as possible, then giving Eagle a half-wary, half-defiant look.

Eagle didn't react. He'd found it difficult to come to terms with Cub's injury, and he'd been given up-to-date intel – though he had also been more to blame than this boy, so maybe it weighed even, in some strange way. He had to admire the kid's nerve, if nothing else. "You're welcome," he said calmly, and none of these kids would know that it was as damn near to an apology as they were ever likely to get from a soldier in the SAS.

It interested him, in a distant way, that the boy even knew where the infirmary was. Despite all their bitching and moaning, none of the other kids had been injured in anyway – over-tired, maybe, and possibly some of them had sprained things, but nothing that required more than the most basic of field first-aid. Cub was the only kid who'd ended up in the infirmary, so this boy – his friend – had clearly been to visit him already.

Maybe they were putting something in the water at that school, he thought, and turned back to his fellow soldiers as the kids filed away, job done.

"You were saying?" he said to Cobra, who was watching the three children leave thoughtfully.

"Pity they're not all like them," Cobra nodded at the kids. "From what F-Unit's said, most of them are a bunch of entitled brats. Think they can't be touched, Mummy and Daddy won't let it happen. We could use more like them."

Wolf shrugged, not particularly interested in any of the children who weren't Cub – which was possibly where they'd gone wrong. F-Unit might have had a point when they said that K-Unit couldn't be objective about any of the kids; they were far too used to Cub, Cub's standard of expertise and bound up in keeping Cub alive and up-to-scratch. "They're not my concern anymore," he said bluntly. "What was it you were saying about Cub?"

"He's weak with long-range weapons," Cobra said, and Eagle shook his head, leaning forwards.

"From what I've heard, he's lethal with a gun," he disagreed, and Cobra gave him a look.

"Yeah, because SIS are gonna hand him one of those," he said, disbelief in every word.

"How do you figure?" Fox asked. Just because they'd heard it from the horse's mouth – or the Cub's – didn't mean that B-Unit, who'd had only the briefest and most disastrous interactions with Cub, should know it.

"If they were going to give him a gun, they wouldn't have sent him here with instructions to train him in group combat," Jackal pointed out, all too used to speaking for his unit.

On some level, it bothered Eagle that B-Unit had clearly been discussing Cub and his training amongst themselves. It wasn't so much that he felt territorial over Cub's training, and more that he was conscious of a kind of unwilling protectiveness – he didn't _want_ to feel protective of Cub, and god only knew that it was mainly pointless. He shrugged off the feeling as best he could and took a deep, grounding breath. "What other weapons do you think he'll be able to get his hands on?" he asked pointedly. "In an inner-city school? It's not like they're going to have much useful stuff lying around for him to use."

"Maybe your best bet is teaching him how best to disarm an armed opponent," Jackal said thoughtfully. "He is good with a gun, I've seen him use one, it's phenomenal for a kid his age, I mean, seriously impressive work."

"As sick as that is," Bear murmured to himself, and Eagle looked down to hide just how much he agreed.

"Do we really want to put him in a situation where he can actually kill people?" Cobra asked quietly. "I mean," he turned to his unit, "you saw how he was when Bear went for him. I don't scare easy, and that scared me. He didn't even see us, what if we teach him how to get a gun in his hands and he goes for his classmates?"

"MI6 trusts him," Wolf objected, and Cobra shook his head.

"Clearly not with a gun," he said, slow and deliberate.

"If he doesn't get his hands on some kind of weapon, his class is done for," Fox said bluntly. "I don't think Cub's going to go for his classmates-"

"Trust me, he's not," Snake said, remembering his conversation with Cub earlier that day. "He's dedicated to this shit. Saving them, I mean."

"Either way, it's a risk we're going to have to take," Wolf said briskly. "I don't think it's likely-"

"When he was with us," Jackal began to object, and Bear shook his head.

"When he was with us, Hawk goaded the kid beyond all belief." He held up his hands when Jackal gave him a sharp look. "I'm not saying he didn't have an excuse for it, and I'm not saying that Cub's reaction wasn't fucking terrifying, but I don't think that's a common thing."

"And the kid was exhausted," Eagle added abruptly. "We were piling shit on him like it was going out of fashion, looking back on it, I'm surprised he was thinking straight. They both had some excuse for how they acted, let's just leave it at that, OK?"

Jackal looked taken aback for a brief second, before nodding. "OK," he said slowly. "When's Cub going to be cleared for duty?"

"The doctor said a couple of days," Wolf said, immediately all business. "Until then, we're going through theory with him." He exchanged a look with Snake, and shrugged. "You could maybe come up and start going through some of the things you lot want to teach him. It's probably best that we start on half-speed when he's back on his feet, so if he knows where it's going in theory, we don't have to worry that we're leaving things undone if we don't get through everything before he has to leave."

Bear nodded slowly. "That makes sense," he agreed, and met Jackal's eyes squarely. "Come on," he said quietly, to his team-leader, "the kid's fourteen and injured. Do you really want to throw him in at the deep end with the stuff we'd be teaching him? Way I remember it, that didn't work out well for anyone last time."

K-Unit applied themselves to their meals, pretending not to listen, though Snake was interested to note the difference in the unit dynamics. Bear was clearly the one to watch, out of those four. Jackal was one of the best tactical thinkers Snake knew, Cobra an astonishingly good marksman, and Hawk was pretty unhinged last time Snake saw him, but Bear was clearly the cement in B-Unit. It was always useful to have that kind of knowledge.

Jackal nodded once at Bear, clearly deferring to Bear's opinion – maybe, Snake thought, Bear was the people person? He was, if Snake remembered correctly, their comms-man, it would make sense, and it would make sense of Jackal's easy agreement with him. If Bear was the one who dealt with people's motivations and reasoning, it was only sensible for Jackal to defer to him in this.

"We should get a couple of other units in on this," Jackal said suddenly, turning back to K-Unit without actually replying to his teammate. "D-Unit, maybe. Wasp had some good ideas, didn't he?"

"You're taking an awful lot of interest in Cub," Eagle said lightly, but Snake tensed beside him. That tone of voice was never good from Eagle. "Discussing his training, wanting to help. So sweet."

Jackal grimaced. "We have a debt," he said shortly. "And the kid's been fucked up enough without you guys skewing him any further."

"Not like that," Bear said quickly, seeing Eagle's expression darken into a scowl. "You're close to him, we get that. You're his unit. But maybe you're _too_ close to him to see that – that, this whole thing, is about getting him through the next couple of weeks alive and as whole as possible, and _nothing more_. You want to save him, full stop. We want to save him _from this_. We can be more objective about his training, and so can D-Unit. And we liked him, we want to help."

Eagle backed down. It hurt, hearing the truth laid out like that, but he could at least recognise that it was the truth – it would be good to have someone there to make sure they, K-Unit, didn't get bogged down in this whole nightmare situation.

"Alright then," Wolf said setting down his cutlery and staring fixedly at his half-eaten mulch. "Talk to D-Unit, yeah? We'll have a meeting, talk some ideas over."

Jackal nodded, meeting Wolf's eye. "Good," he said simply, and turned back to his food while K-Unit, almost as one, stood and left.

* * *

The rest of Alex's class were, as usual, gathered in one of the barracks set aside for them during their stay, and while they'd pretty well thrashed out the Alex Rider topic by now, the conversation eventually drifted back to him anyway. It seemed like there was always something new to say about Alex, but there were only so many ways to reword complaints about overwork and aching limbs.

"Oh, please," Hartford said, breaking in on one of the girls, who'd been waxing lyrical about how 'fit' Alex was, "we all watched him going over the assault course, he's not _that_ fit."

Joe, who'd always backed Will up before, frowned. "I don't know," he said quietly, "it doesn't make a lot of sense, does it?"

Hartford frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you can fake being bad at things," Joe said slowly, "but it's hard to fake being good, and Alex is sometimes really good at stuff he shouldn't be."

"Like what?" Hartford tried for a sneer, but he sounded more uncertain than scornful.

Joe shrugged. "Karate? I mean, he's supposed to be asthmatic and weedy, and he's a black belt in karate?"

"Why would the SAS be talking down to him, if he's so _good_ at everything, then?" Will asked belligerently.

Joe shrugged again, rather helplessly. "I don't know – it's like they didn't get their story straight, maybe."

"He basically got us over the assault course one time," a girl piped up. "But Wolf and the others shouted at him and told him he had to stay behind."

"One time," Will said, but he didn't sound so sure. "I never said he wasn't clever – he used to get pretty good marks, didn't he? – but even if he can think his way round the course, he can't _do_ it, can he?"

"Then why do they keep him back, and make him do it again?" Joe asked reasonably. "Most of _us_ are bad at it, but they only use it as a – a warm up for us, really. They don't make us do it over and over again, there's no point."

"He'd slow the rest of us down if he came with us to do the other stuff we're learning," Matthew said, and Will pointed at him.

"Yeah, what he said," he agreed triumphantly, but there were more sceptical looks than sounds of agreement. "Fine!" he said roughly. "If they _are_ keeping him behind for super-spy-training, why did he _fall off_ the zip wire? Even Maddy stayed on!" Maddy was the smallest girl in their class, and a self-proclaimed PE-hater, who grinned rather than bother taking offence.

"He looked really bad when Eagle pulled him out of the water," Katie said softly. "I mean, really bad."

"What if," Joe said, slowly, "he fell off because he couldn't stay on anymore?"

Will wasn't the only one who laughed at that, and he wasn't the one who spoke up next either. "Oh, well done, Joe, you've got it," Matthew said, still grinning. "Dead on."

"Don't be stupid," Joe said impatiently, "not like that. But Rider's not a deadweight in PE, is he? I mean, before he started getting 'sick' all the time," he sketched air-quotes round the word, "he was on the football team and everything. He could do everything we could, and that zipwire took, what, two minutes? If that? Seems to me, the only reason he should have fallen off is because he was too tired to stay on."

"So you think Alex Rider – _Alex Rider_," Will said carefully, grinning in a way which would have made Tom long to punch him just one more time, "is being pulled aside by the SAS for training when we're not around?"

"No," Joe sighed, "I don't, but only because I don't think anyone would let kids like us be spies. But come on, it makes way more sense than some of the other things we've heard. Like I said, Rider was on the football team, he's not totally useless at PE, and he never _seems_ sick when he gets back to school. I just don't know what the hell he's doing, and you've gotta admit, it's weird, the way he's always getting singled out and shoved to one side by the SAS."

"If he _was_ getting really sick all the time, it might have made him – a bit weak," Katie said reasonably, but was shouted down, everyone eager to reaffirm their disbelief in Alex's cover story.

"Well, we all agree on that, anyway –he's blatantly not 'getting sick'," Maddy said, finally, when a little of the hubbub had died down.

"Then what the hell _is_ he doing?"

"What do _you_ think he's doing, then?" Katie and Joe spoke almost in tandem.

Maddy shrugged. "_I_ think he's in and out of juvie the whole time. My mum says she wouldn't know what to do with my brother if it wasn't for Dad, and Alex has only got his housekeeper. I bet she let him run wild after his guardian died, and didn't know how to stop him."

"Maybe he learnt his karate off the other inmates," Siobhan said wickedly, and the conversation moved on, though it occasionally cycled back to Alex and his oddities.

Only Joe noticed when Will stood and left a few minutes later, and when he followed him out, he found him sat on the entry steps to the barracks, staring out into the camp without appearing to see anything.

"You alright, mate?" he asked, a little awkwardly. Theirs wasn't a friendship based on heart-to-hearts, but Will was Joe's oldest friend, and stuff was clearly getting to him – Joe could suck it up for a little bit if that was what Will needed.

Will shrugged. "Yeah, fine, just couldn't listen to any of that bollocks about Rider anymore."

"Waste of time," Joe agreed, only a little awkwardly, sliding down the wall to sit next to Will.

"Totally," Will nodded, but he seemed a little off, still. "We're kind of shits to him, aren't we?" he said, next, and Joe frowned.

"What d'you mean?"

"Well..." Will trailed off awkwardly. "I dunno," he said finally. "I was just thinking about it, you know? I don't think he's a spy. But whatever's going on with him is totally weird, and all he gets from us is-" he broke off again, and shook his head. "Doesn't matter, mate," he said finally, standing. "I can't wait to get back to home, s'all. This place is doing my head in."

He went back into the barracks, leaving Joe wondering where on earth that had come from.

* * *

In the infirmary, a very different scene was being enacted between Tom, Ben, Charlotte and Alex.

"We asked the soldiers," Charlotte said, just a little nervously, when they first came into Alex's room. "They said it was OK for us to visit."

"I'd have come anyway," Tom said pugnaciously, sticking his chin out the way he always did when he'd decided to defy authority – Alex recognised it well.

"I wouldn't," Ben said, casually appropriating the chair at the end of Alex's bed. "They all scare me way too much. How are you?"

"Yes," Charlotte agreed, "how are you feeling?"

Alex shrugged, a little bemused to find them all in his room. Tom, he'd expected – Ben and Charlotte were a surprise, and Alex wasn't sure he enjoyed being surprised anymore. Still, it was, as Ian used to say, better than a kick in the teeth. "Not bad," he said slowly. "I hit my head, got a bad concussion – nothing to worry about."

"You looked pretty bad when Eagle dragged you out of the water," Ben said noncommittally, and Alex shrugged.

"Yeah, well. I'd half-drowned, hadn't I?" he said flippantly. He'd never come into contact much with Charlotte, even though she'd been in various of his classes since he started at Brooklands – he knew of her vaguely, quiet, shy and clever, a bit of a teacher's favourite, without an ounce of malice and equally little courage. It seemed he'd misjudged her a little, at least, but he wondered what brought her here as she shifted under his gaze, glancing at Ben.

Ben, he knew better – he'd been captain of the football team when Alex was still normal, though it felt like years ago. They'd had classes together; Alex had been to his birthday parties over the years, hung out with him at the weekends, and for a little while there, he and Alex had been vying for the captainship. Then Alex's life had gone to hell in a handcart, and Ben's had stayed the same – they'd barely spoken for nearly a year. Why would they need to? Ben was well-liked, intelligent, doing well in his classes and didn't need to hang around with Alex Rider, unanimously, if unofficially, voted most likely to drop out after GCSEs.

But Ben, like Charlotte, had turned up in Alex's room at the infirmary, after a year of no contact. What was it that brought them here? He glanced at Tom, who was watching him carefully. "How's everyone else?" Alex asked, just to break the silence.

"Still bitching and moaning," Tom said bluntly. "Everything's 'too hard' or 'too unfair', it's a pain."

"We just want to get good at these things," Charlotte said quietly, "but they're always saying we need to work as a team, we need to work together, and it's not easy when no one else will take it seriously."

"I wish I could help," Alex said carefully, "but I'm not very good-"

"Alex, it's OK," Ben said frankly, "I don't know what's going on with you – I don't know if you're a spy, or a juvenile delinquent, or whatever the latest rumour is – but you're good at this stuff, you don't have to pretend you're not."

"I'm not a spy," Alex said, not needing to feign his discomfort. "Why would you think that?"

"Well, firstly, Tom told us," Ben said easily, and Tom shifted uncomfortably, casting Alex an appealing look, which he brushed off with half a smile, "but I wouldn't have believed him if I hadn't been watching you."

"You don't add up," Charlotte said simply, and Alex glanced back at her, seriously re-evaluating her for the first time. Not much courage, perhaps, but plenty of observance. "Not since your uncle died. Before then, you were just another clever kid, like the rest of us, mad on sports like most of the boys, exactly the same as all the others. And then he died, and I thought maybe you were just grieving, I know how that feels, my grandma died about the same time." She was gabbling, clearly nervous, and just as clearly determined to say her piece. "It's not the same, but all grief is kind of the same, isn't it? But then you didn't change back, and you were away for so long, and – and then Tom said you were a spy, and I thought, well, it makes sense, doesn't it?"

"Does it?" Alex said, trying to sound amused. "I didn't think-"

"You never 'don't think'," Ben said, with no regard whatsoever for grammar, but a painful accuracy.

"Not a very good spy, am I? If I get rumbled by two of my classmates," Alex said, aiming for jocular.

"Well, I wouldn't have thought of it if it wasn't for Tom," Ben said candidly, and didn't notice Tom practically writhing with guilt in the corner. "I guess telling him is what made you a bad spy, but we're only fourteen. If you _are_ a spy, it's sick, I don't blame you for telling Tom. I'd have wanted to tell someone. Can't the police help?"

Alex's estimation of both Ben and Charlotte rose. Most of the others had wavered between frank disbelief and grudging excitement – being a spy was cool, dangerous, James Bond. It wasn't exploitation or traps or blackmail. Ben had cut right to the heart of it, and Charlotte was nodding along as if she agreed with every word – it was oddly pleasant, a relief not to have to play a part again.

Still: "I wish you didn't know," he said bluntly. "And I didn't think I was being that obvious."

"I know how good you are at sport," Ben shrugged. "You and Tom are the best, and you're just too bad at everything now. I knew that wasn't true, I just didn't know why you'd bother pretending. I thought maybe it was to get back at everyone, drag everyone else down, but the soldiers just separated you from us, so it couldn't be that. And if I were you, and I was so good at sport, I'd want to show off – everyone's so nasty to you, I'd want to show them. I wondered why you weren't, and then Tom said you were a spy, and I thought, well, that makes sense, doesn't it? You're keeping your cover."

Alex shrugged, and Charlotte smiled weakly. "We're not going to tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about," she said simply. "We know it'd be dangerous for anyone else to know."

Ben and Charlotte had been talking about him, Alex realised, and not with Tom, who looked as surprised at Alex by that revelation. Clearly, they'd approached Tom, told him they knew, and Tom had been feeling guilty ever since – he'd never wanted to betray Alex's secret permanently, after all, and he'd been hoping that it would all blow over, more grist to the rumour mill that would die down in a couple of weeks. Ben and Charlotte meant that wasn't going to happen, and even if they were being sensible about it, there was only so far a sensible attitude could take them.

"It's dangerous for _you_ to know," he said, and both children frowned. "Come on, why do you think we're being targeted and shot at? You think it's coincidence that terrorists are attacking the only class – as far as I know – in the whole of England with a teenage spy in it? _I'm_ the reason we're being shot at, I'm sure of it-"

"We guessed as much," Ben said, though he looked a little uneasy now.

"Did you?" Alex said coolly, "well done. What happens if they're not trying to kill us? Because they're not. If they wanted to kill me, my house has windows, I'm out and about in London a fair bit, they could kill me without having to get you lot involved. They're after something else. If they kidnap you, d'you think you can withstand torture? If they think you know anything, you haven't got a hope." Charlotte was looking a little pale, and Ben's lips were pressed tightly together. "I'm glad you're not going to tell anyone," Alex said, a little less curt, "and I'm grateful that you're not going nuts over this, but you've got to pretend you didn't know. Pretend you don't believe it, whatever."

"You could use some friends," Ben said determinedly. "We can pretend we don't know-"

Alex sighed, dragging a hand over his face. "Come on, think it through," he said tersely. "I dropped off the radar, and I've got three friends left in this place? Who would _you_ target, if you wanted to get close to me?"

"Oh," Charlotte said, distressed. "You can't even have _friends_?"

"It's less fun even than you think, this spy nonsense," Alex said heavily, and Ben frowned.

"What about Tom?"

"Tom's already screwed," Alex said bluntly, and Tom grinned back blithely.

"Being friends with Alex isn't the worst thing I've ever done," he said simply, "and it's too late for me now. I've already written my Will."

"I don't like it," Ben said, biting his lip, and Alex laughed without humour.

"That's a shame, I just _love_ it," he said, hiding his resentment in sarcasm with only a little effort, and Ben met his eyes for a long moment.

"For the moment, we'll hold off," he said firmly. "But when it's over, if you need a friend-"

"I'm touched," Alex interrupted, with a rather bitter smile, "but what makes you think it will _ever_ be over?"

* * *

Alex Rider, it seemed, was the order of the day, and over in K-Unit's barracks, his chances and his training were being dissected yet again, with rather more thoroughness and rather less hearsay. Wolf was nominally in charge of the meeting, but he was soon swapped out for Eagle, who was both better acquainted with Cub and less likely to snap at half-thought-through suggestions.

"Right," he said early on, cutting through Wolf's rather confused opening speech, a mixture of advice and threats. "This is ridiculous – we all know why Cub's here, we all know he's a head-and-shoulders better than the other kids, and we're all here to help. F-Unit, why don't you tell us what you've got planned for the others? Then we know where to keep Cub away from."

Leopard shrugged. "We'll fit in with whatever you need," he said easily. "The way I see it, the Rider kid's the best hope of getting them through it, so we'll facilitate his training however we can."

"There are some good kids among the dross," Asp said fairly. "They're not all useless. It's just hard to get them to take it seriously."

"You're telling me," Wolf said dourly.

"The way I see it," Jackal said, making no attempt to defer to K-Unit's better knowledge of Cub, "the kid's potentially dangerous-"

"We've been over this," Eagle put in, more for the benefit of the other units than for Jackal. "But if you like, we'll talk to Dr. Manning, he can set you straight."

"Do it," Jackal said shortly, and Bear gave him a look.

"He needs training in urban combat," he said, taking over for his acerbic team leader. "How to disarm an armed opponent, and using a gun on moving targets in a crowded area."

"He's good with a gun," Cobra said idly. "We were with him on the range one time, he hit everything, prone or standing. We don't know how he'd do against moving targets-"

"He's got pretty good aim," Eagle said ruefully, "but it'd be different with the other kids there – that's a lot of people he's got to aim to miss."

"That's what worries me," Jackal muttered, and Wolf frowned at him.

"Look, Jackal, have you got anything more to go on than your own half-cocked opinion?" he said heatedly, and Snake jumped in before he could burn any more of that particular bridge.

"Wolf, leave it. And Jackal, the kid's more likely to be traumatised than criminally insane, and you're not helping. He's not going to shoot his classmates, OK? We'll see about getting him checked out by Manning, have him look at some of Rorschach's blots or whatever. For the moment, leave it be."

Jackal subsided, and Wolf took a deep breath. "Right, so we've got three concrete things to teach him."

"What I don't understand," Wasp said idly, "is why this class is being targeted at all. I mean, why _this class_?"

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" Bear said quietly. "It's Cub. He's fourteen, he's an agent, he's clearly naturally gifted. Whoever it is is trying to get their hands on Cub-"

"And going about it all wrong," Viper pointed out quietly. "We were talking about this. If they want Cub, they can get him any number of ways – take him off the streets, grab him from his house, even fake a call from SIS, they don't have to target his class, not even if they want to kill him."

"So what's the class for?" Wasp asked, leaning forward. "If you ask me, they want Cub, and they want Cub to work for them, and what better way than to get a little leverage?"

"What are you saying?" Leopard asked, frowning over at Wasp.

"I'm saying we should take the other kids through the basics of RTI," Wasp said heavily. "Because I think they're gonna need it."

"What about Cub?" Eagle said, never one to stray all that far from his teammate's particular plight.

"Cub should get the full works," Viper said wearily. "I'm not saying I like the idea!" he held up a hand to forestall Eagle's inevitable protest. "I don't _want_to torture a fourteen year old, credit me with some morality, but we plan for every contingency. If this goes wrong – well, Christ, guys, that kid is not a weapon I want in someone else's hands."

"_That kid_ is not a weapon!" Eagle snapped, and Hawk shook his head.

"Sorry, Eagle," he said dully, "but he is. I know I goaded him into it, I know I fucked up, but do you know any other fourteen year olds who can take down a fully trained soldier? I don't. It was a hard fight, but he won it – in the right hands, played the right way, he's definitely a weapon."

"Whatever else he is, he's a child," Snake said. "I don't think he needs help pressing that advantage-"

"He's not going to _have_ that advantage with whoever's after his class," Wasp snapped. "They know who he is and what he's capable of better than we do, and they've gone to a lot of effort to get a hold of him-"

"And why isn't SIS doing better than this?" Adder wanted to know. "He's their operative, you'd think they'd protect him better than just shipping his class off to us and crossing their fingers."

"Look," Wolf broke in firmly, "we've got to accept two things: we're working on less than half the information we need, and arguing about it isn't going to help. So, like Viper says – we plan for every contingency. One: he succeeds. What does he need to know to succeed? Two: he fails. What does he need to know if he fails?"

"Three: he wins but his classmates are killed or wounded," Jackal continued. "Oh, don't give me that look, Eagle, I'm not saying he'd have done it. He needs to know how to get help for them, basic field medicine, tourniquets, basic shit."

"Four: he fails and his classmates are taken hostage with him," Snake nodded at Jackal. "He'll need more than basic field medicine for that, too."

"If he's kept with them," Eagle muttered.

"He'll need first aid for himself, I bet you," Fox said, half to Eagle, half to Snake.

"But this doesn't help," Rat objected. "Sure, these are basic scenarios, but we've got too little information to go on. He wins, he fails, sure, but we don't know when or where the enemy are going to strike, or how they're going to act, or even what they want him for. We're totally in the dark."

"So we need to make sure we're thorough," Viper nodded at him. "In all our plans."

"And we've only got a week. Anyone got ideas on how to be concise, but thorough?" Eagle asked, only a little ironically.

"Let's start at the beginning," Bear said firmly, "and work our way through. Right, contingency one..."

* * *

It was another two days before Manning could be persuaded to let Alex take part in any of the physical activities the soldiers had planned for him. Nothing daunted, Alex's one-bed room in the infirmary saw a constantly shifting group of soldiers, all focused on teaching Alex the theory of their particular area of expertise. Manning checked on them every so often, shooing the soldiers out at regular intervals to give Alex a break under the guise of 'checking his chart' or 'changing his IV bag' – and no one commented that Alex wasn't actually on an IV anymore, or that his chart hadn't been updated in days.

The soldiers themselves – from all the units Alex had ever come in contact with – were grim-faced and focused, and they seemed to have worked out a plan of action over the last few days. Alex was drilled in all kinds of areas, from the weak points of the arm to the theory of urban camouflage, and although he'd have preferred not to have to learn any of it, he rather enjoyed coming to grips with the totally new material. It was a different exercise to schoolwork – he was never sure how much time he'd have at school, never sure what was worth doing and what wasn't. This required an entirely different kind of focus, an entirely new kind of attention – and it was all worth learning.

And learn it he did. Not all the soldiers were good teachers – Jackal in particular had a fairly short fuse and clearly didn't suffer fools lightly, but he and Alex learnt to rub along fairly well – but they were all intimidatingly thorough tutors, taking Alex over the same ground as many times as necessary to make sure he got it, drilling him on it until he couldn't forget. It was intensive and tough, but somehow _clean_, unsullied and uncomplicated in a way that Alex's life never was these days.

He noticed, too, that Eagle rarely left any member of B-Unit alone with him. It was easier not to say anything, and it was mostly pointless too – Alex was sure none of the soldiers were a danger to him, not even B-Unit – but he felt oddly touched by it all the same.

K-Unit were a constant during the days before Alex was allowed out of the infirmary – whichever other unit happened to be with him, a member K-Unit was always there, and they were the ones who finished up Alex's teaching hours, regardless of what he'd been doing that day. It might not have been his area of expertise, but some sadist somewhere had told Wolf that the best way of learning something was to teach it – so the end of every individual session saw Alex teaching K-Unit the basics of disarming an armed opponent, urban guerrilla tactics, even marshalling untaught civilians away from a fight.

When the soldiers disappeared for the night, Tom normally turned up, though Ben and Charlotte didn't come with him again. He usually stayed for at least half an hour, sometimes more, and between Tom and the soldiers, Alex went to sleep each night completely tired out, but no longer straying over the line into the horrible exhausted, worn-thin feeling he'd had just last week. It was an oddly pleasant, reassuring couple of days, and by the time Alex was cleared for light active duty – despite Manning's increasingly disapproving frown – he felt almost completely back together, himself again at last. Different from the others in his class he might be, but at least now he felt like himself.

All the same, he could understand the grimness on his new teachers' faces. It was Wednesday, and he had all of three days to get up to scratch on the techniques he needed to be taught before he and his class were shipped back to London and left to deal with whatever came next. He felt it too. He knew from Tom that his class were improving, slowly, but it would take weeks, if not months, to get them anywhere near half-competent, and those who were taking it seriously were totally outnumbered by those who refused to do so. He was his class's best hope, and he had _three days_.

_This isn't a solution,_ he thought grimly to himself, as he made his way down to Barracks 11, where he'd been ordered to meet K-Unit, _it's a farce. We haven't got a hope_.

Still, all he could do – all he could ever do – was try.

"Your class are out of the camp," Wolf told him tersely, while Alex warmed up under Eagle's watchful gaze. "F-Unit scheduled an activity outside the camp to give you time to get down here. You'll go back to the infirmary while the rest of your class are in the mess hall – we'll keep them there if we have to."

"And what's today?" Alex asked, stretching out as much as he could, trying to get the stiffness of inactivity out of his muscles.

"We're going to start with the practicalities of disarming an armed opponent-" Eagle began.

"Which is why I'm here," Cobra interrupted, nodding at Alex.

"-Which is why Cobra's here," Eagle agreed. "Once you've got that, we'll break for lunch, then you'll be with D-Unit for RTI."

Alex paused. "RTI?" he said, as casually as he could, and Wolf nodded, though even he looked uneasy.

"RTI," he agreed gruffly. "You're good, Cub, but this could all go wrong. You need to know what you're doing."

Alex took a moment to himself to digest that. It made sense – it made perfect sense, in fact – but something about the idea of a simulated scenario of torture and interrogation made his blood run cold. He couldn't get out of it, he couldn't tell them anything, he couldn't know when it would end – the whole thing was nightmarish. And he wouldn't have the comfort of adrenaline or fear to get him through, to cushion him from the worst of it, as he normally did.

"D-Unit, you said?" he said finally, mainly to make sure that it wasn't going to be B-Unit. He didn't want to think how that would go down.

"D-Unit," Eagle confirmed. "And me."

"Bear volunteered," Cobra said, apparently disinterested. "But we didn't think it was a good idea for him to – yeah."

"God, no," Alex agreed quickly. He couldn't think of anything worse than making Bear relive his own experiences with torture.

Cobra brushed the issue aside. "Let's get started," he said briskly. "We haven't got any time to waste on this. We're going to be using this," he held up a handgun, carefully removing the magazine and checking the chamber, "and here's what I want you to do..."

Cobra was a thorough teacher, not precisely patient, but not willing to rush through areas of potential error. He drilled Alex thoroughly on three different ways to disarm his opponents armed with hand-guns – "because you don't want to get your hands on anything bigger – we'll take you down to the range tomorrow morning to practice with side-arms" – then stood back while Alex demonstrated them on Eagle, watching them with critical eyes.

"Good," he said simply when they were done, and Alex had turned back to him. "Very good. Now, try it on me – and I'm going to fight back."

Alex eyed Cobra warily while the other man picked up Eagle's unloaded gun; he remembered Eagle saying Cobra was the best he knew at unarmed combat, and he wasn't looking forward to trying to disarm him. Not for the first time, he spared a moment to be grateful that Cobra had stayed out of his fight with Hawk – he was pretty sure he'd have been paste by the time Cobra had got through with him. His fluidity as he demonstrated moves to Alex earlier spoke of total control; his confidence was a warning in itself. He was too self-assured to be falsely modest, particularly about such a useful skill.

"Right," Cobra said, having checked once again that the gun was unloaded, and exchanging a lightning-quick glance with Eagle. "Remind me again – what's your main concern?"

"To come at them from behind," Alex repeated dutifully, feeling oddly light and focused. He knew he could do this – Cobra was a good teacher. An intimidating opponent, no doubt, but he'd taught Alex how to do this, and Alex could improvise if need-be, and he didn't need to _beat_ Cobra – he was pretty sure he _couldn't_ beat Cobra, not when the advantages of height, weight and experience were against him – he just had to disarm him. And Cobra had just taught him how. He could do that. "Come at them from behind, or they'll shoot me, and this whole thing will have been a waste of time."

That got a flicker of a smile from Alex's dour-faced teacher. "They might not, of course," he pointed out though, instead of commenting. "They might have specific instructions concerning you. Make sure not to bring attention to yourself _before_ you have a gun in your hand, though, or you might find that your classmates end up being targeted before you have a hope of evening out the playing field. So you need to remember to...?"

"Come at them from behind," Alex said carefully, "not draw attention to myself – angle myself on their dominant side, but give myself room to manoeuvre if I screw up and give them time to pivot."

"Alright then," Cobra nodded, and turned away. "This isn't a fair representation," he added without looking back, "because I'm expecting you- oof!"

Alex brought the knife-edge of his hand down hard on the main nerve in Cobra's bicep, taking advantage of the momentary distraction to twist the man's arm round behind him and press, hard, onto the weak point of the wrist. With his arm half-numb and at an awkward angle, Cobra's hold on the gun weakened, and Alex pulled it out of his fingers with a triumphant grin.

"Well, I see you're a pro at taking your opponent unawares," Cobra grumbled, turning back and gifting Alex with a rare half-smile. "And I take your point," which was impressive, since Alex hadn't been intending to make one. "I want you to practise against an opponent who's fighting back though, so – again."

This time, Alex approached more warily, careful to keep slightly to one side of Cobra, but out of his line of vision. If he gave Cobra time to fight back, he was also giving him time to shoot him, which would cause a problem – not to mention, there was every likelihood that if he didn't get a gun out of his opponent's hand within the first few seconds, he'd end up with a bullet in him whether they were meant to shoot him or not – startling someone armed in the middle of a fight was a sure-fire way to end up shot.

He wished, not for the first time, that he could guess when and where they'd be when their attackers struck – he'd know if there was anything he could use to simply knock someone out and grab their gun which would, frankly, be his first choice if he had one. Still: no time for wishful thinking now.

Alex grabbed at Cobra's elbow, but the man held his arm tense, wheeling round frighteningly fast to face him. Alex hung on for grim death – "always make sure they _can't aim the gun_," Cobra had said, and Alex didn't intend to give him the chance – and searched for a nerve, any nerve, in the fleshy part of the wrist. One – "the median nerve" – was better than the others, but if he could find any of them, he could get the gun out of Cobra's hand.

Cobra struck him a glancing blow across the face with his free hand, and Alex, with no hands free, retaliated by kneeing him in the groin. Cobra doubled over instinctively, and froze as Alex wrenched the gun out of his hand and rested it against the base of his skull.

"Well done," Cobra said, straightening up, the only sign of his recent debilitation a slight waxy paleness to his skin. "Very well done. Good to see you're adaptable, and you didn't let me bring the gun up – good." It was the most praise Alex had ever had from any of the soldiers, and for a second, he didn't know quite how to react. In lieu of saying anything, therefore, he simply nodded. "We'll do this again sometime, make sure it's not a one off," Cobra continued, either pretending not to notice or oblivious to Alex's pleased surprise, "but I think you're good to go. Eagle will arrange the range for you for tomorrow morning – we'll need to make sure you can use that thing."

With a nod at the gun in Alex's hand and a brief smile, he turned to K-Unit, nodded once again, and was gone.

* * *

Contrary to Wolf's information, RTI didn't come next, and Alex was shipped off to B-Unit (with Eagle, as ever, in tow) for instruction on close urban combat. Cobra was missing, and Alex wondered irreverently whether he'd gone to ice himself down somewhere private – but he wasn't given much time for personal jokes before Hawk and Jackal were putting him through his paces, asking him to remember everything they'd taught him over the past two days.

Throwing him in at the deep-end seemed to be everyone's new favourite pastime, and it was only when they'd run through two or three scenarios that B-Unit stopped the simulations and started actually instructing him. Though they did it by dissecting his performance in their mock-ups, Alex found he didn't mind – he didn't even mind Jackal's rather biting asides. They _expected_ something of him – they expected him to be good, to take information on board, to be competent. There was no implicit assumption that he would fail. That kind of confidence, even though it was couched in the driest and most biting of language, was surprisingly motivating, and Alex found himself trying his hardest to take everything on board and to succeed – it had been a very, very long time since anyone who'd shown any interest in him at all had expected him to do well.

All the same, by the time he got back to the infirmary that night, while all of his classmates were safely in the mess hall, he was absolutely exhausted. It had been a longer day than he'd expected, and though he no longer felt stretched-thin and worn down, he was looking forward to a good sleep and some peace and quiet.

Dr. Manning threw a wrench in the second part of his plans by turning up in Alex's room after Alex had showered and clambered back into his too-big standard-issue pyjamas.

"Just checking up on you," he said cheerily, sitting down on the uncomfortable plastic chair and watching as Alex perched himself on the edge of the hospital bed. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Alex said, meaning it for the first time in days, "but shouldn't you have left by now? I mean, I thought you went off base at the end of the day."

"Oh, I do," Manning agreed, "but the girls know I work late sometimes, this isn't exactly a steady nine-to-fiver, is it? They won't be worried."

"The girls?" Alex asked, pulling his feet up under him to sit cross-legged on the bed. He looked a ridiculous enough picture without the legs of the pyjama trousers hanging down over his bare feet.

"My wife and daughters," Manning said, smiling. "Don't worry, I don't have pictures – I gave up carrying photos of them round with me when the girls started growing up. They change too quickly."

"I didn't think my uncle even had any photos of me," Alex said, wondering as he did why he was even being so honest. "But he had one of me in his office."

"He must have been proud of you," Manning commented blandly, and Alex shrugged. His feelings about Ian were complicated at the best of times, and this in no way qualified as the best of times. "I'm proud of our two, they're good kids."

"How old are they?" Alex asked, wanting to make sure they were safe on factual ground. It always hurt, hearing about other people's happy homes, and strangely it hurt even more to hear about it from the parent's point of view. Perhaps that was why he and Tom got on so well; both of them had miserable home lives.

"Lizzie's seven – Sally's ten. They're both going to go to my wife's school."

"She's a headmistress?"

Manning smiled. "Child psychologist. She's the on-call school counsellor for Jesus College two days a week."

Alex paused. "Right," he said, after a second or so of silence. "Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Yes," Manning said, making absolutely no attempt to conceal it – Alex appreciated that. "In part, at least. I've talked to her about it, and cleared it with Colonel Roslyn – if you want, she could come up here tomorrow night and talk to you. We'll square it with MI6 if it comes to light, but she has an idea of what's going on and she's not attached to an agency of any kind, so she'll be unbiased if you do decide you want to talk to her."

Alex thought about it for a minute. His gut instinct was to refuse outright, and immediately, and though his gut instincts were usually right, he wasn't quite prepared to listen to it now. And wasn't that answer enough? Wouldn't it be good to talk to someone, who could understand or who would try to understand? It would be a relief, if nothing else. On the other hand, could he justify dragging both of the Mannings into the mess of his life? They weren't SAS – MI6 could tamper with them whenever they wanted, ruin their lives even. Was it worth the risk, just to _talk_ to someone?

"I can't," he said finally. "It's kind of you, but I can't."

"Why not?" Manning asked reasonably, his eyes kind.

"If MI6 found out-" Alex began, but Manning shook his head.

"Alex, MI6 don't even know you're in the infirmary," he said. "We filed an accident report, of course, but Roslyn didn't send it on to them. Maybe he would have done," he added fairly, "but then you popped up to see him, and he held off. Then _I_ went to see him, and we decided it wasn't a good idea to let them in on this. As far as SIS are concerned, you're still with the rest of your class, and even if they did find out you were here, me bringing my wife into camp-"

"Your wife who just happens to be a child psychologist," Alex objected. "They _will_ find out when I go back, and my class don't shut up about me being in the infirmary-"

"Even so, where's the danger?" Manning asked. "We're not planning to tell anyone – neither of us can. It breaks patient confidentiality if we do. We're only a danger to MI6 if we decide to publish anything, and we're not going to-"

"Do you want MI6 popping into your wife's work, or coming to your house, and demanding you sign the Official Secrets Act? I wouldn't," Alex retorted. "Not with two small kids."

"It's sweet of you to worry about that, Alex, but I don't think we need to worry about that until it happens. If they find out, they find out – and Colonel Roslyn will cover for us as long as we need. The important thing, though I know you won't believe it, is making sure _you're_ alright."

Alex subsided. He couldn't argue his point too long when he would much prefer not to have to. Talking to someone who understood – because Mrs Manning (or was she Dr Manning too?) would understand, Dr. Manning would have told her his situation already – sounded good. He could only be self-sacrificing for so long. "Alright," he said finally, "tomorrow night?"

Manning smiled at him, rather relieved. "Tomorrow night," he confirmed. "I'll go and pick Gilda up, and we'll be back here around seven. How does that sound?"

It sounded like Alex had been talked into it for his own good – but Alex could at least recognise it was for his own good. "That sounds OK," he said noncommittally, and Manning smiled.

"Good, I'm glad," he said, and stood, patting Alex on the shoulder, and letting his hand rest there for a long moment. "Sleep well, Alex," he said gently, and was gone.

Alex was left staring after him, wondering what he'd let himself in for.

* * *

After evening meal, by silent consensus all four units had assembled again in K-Unit's barracks, breaking up into smaller groups while they waited.

Despite the faint underlying tension, they were a cheerful group, switching round, a couple of games of cards springing up – Snake was a surprise contender for Snap! champion – while other settled down to talk or read. The general consensus seemed to be that it was better to be alone in the group than actually by themselves.

After about two hours, Wasp sat down next to Viper. "Oh, I do not want to do this," he muttered to him, and Viper nodded, giving up all pretence of concentrating on his book.

"We've not got a choice though," he muttered back, and nodded over to the corner. "Just be grateful it's us. It could be worse."

In the corner, Bear was playing poker with Eagle and Leopard. He looked totally at ease, but his knuckles were white and the cards were bending slightly as he gripped them.

"We should have got F-Unit to do it," Adder said in an undertone, pulling his boots back on and lacing them tightly. "Isn't Leopard supposed to be good at this shit?"

"Mm, I really want him practising that skill," Wasp said, sarcastic.

"What time is it?" Viper asked, ignoring this by-play.

"Coming up for eleven," Adder said, looking out over the group, his face blank.

Viper squared his shoulders and nodded once. "D-Unit," he said, his voice carrying effortlessly over the assembled units, all of whom fell silent. "Time. Let's go."

* * *

That's all she wrote! (for now)

For Your Information:

K-Unit: Wolf (team leader), Snake, Eagle and Fox

F-Unit (now in charge of training Alex's class): Leopard (team leader), Rat, Crow and Asp.

D-Unit: Viper (team leader), Adder, Wasp and Lemur

B-Unit: Jackal (team leader), Cobra, Bear and Hawk

OK, so if anyone noticed, I may have been somewhat, er. Scraping the bottom of the barrel when it came to F-Unit? The DEFRA Dangerous Wild Animals Act of 1976 was handy for names, though. I'm aware that it's unlikely, given its similarity to 'ass' when said out loud, that anyone would _actually_ give someone the codename 'asp', but goddammit he had to be called something. (And most snakes are dangerous, and give themselves neatly to the code-naming the SAS.)

Also, with Lemur? He ain't no gentle lemur. He's a Leaping Lemur. A Ring-Tailed Lemur. I've been to the Durrell Wildlife Trust, I know my lemurs. And those fuckers are LOUD. And totally dangerous. Seriously. _Totally dangerous._ Just try not to think of him as small, cuddly and addicted to fruit. He's like a – a dangerous lemur. A _rabid_, _feral_ lemur. Yeah. ¬_¬

Look, Anthony Horowitz only had to think up four of these guys, it is WAY HARDER thinking up, like, sixteen or twenty. At the end of the day, you just have to accept that you're gonna end up with some cuddly ones. Dammit.

Anyway, that's your lot - I have some vague hopes that I may get the next chapter up before the end of the year...? *sigh*

hope you liked it, ami xxx


	18. Chapter 18

**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS.** This chapter contains **torture** (a variant of waterboarding) and the **beating and interrogation** of a fourteen year old. There are also some pretty obvious signs of **PTSD** rocking up. Please be warned and read responsibly! I tried not to pull my punches too much, and it's not a fun chapter, believe me. Alex is understandably fairly psychologically scarred by the whole process, and his reactions are neither rational nor safe. Please see the end of the chapter for further information.

Any mistakes are because I haven't, shockingly, actually ever done any of this bollocks. (And my Google search history would now give any sane and normal person a conniption fit.)

Anyway, here it is! Chapter 18, and I myself am totally shocked that it's up this fast - particularly since I have the essays o' doom for my MA due in January, and may or may not be panicking wildly over them. (Hint: I am panicking wildly over them.)

BUT! This is a gift! And possibly a rubbish one, too: a gift to the very lovely **cwena**, whose birthday is coming up. She has put up with me being a gigantic fail for so long, 10 000 words of fic is absolutely nothing in comparison. :D

Without further ado: the DISCLAIMER!: Still no.

* * *

Alex woke suddenly, in the dark, to the worrying realisation that someone was in his room – but he had less than a second to work it out before he was being wrenched out of bed and frogmarched out of the room.

He knew what was happening of course – hadn't Wolf, in his own oblique way, warned him about it? – and of course they weren't going to give him RTI training when he was expecting it. Which was, when he thought about it, a little silly; if he got captured by anyone, he was _always_ expecting to be interrogated. It was a fact of his life – if he got caught, he had to expect to get hurt.

There were four men, so one of the units had got lucky, and got to interrogate him – which he suspected was going pretty strongly against the grain for them. Even if Alex wasn't especially liked by the SAS, they had strong codes of conduct when it came to their own, and he had just enough ties to them to be classed as 'one of their own'. They might not like it, but their recent behaviour, if nothing else, showed that they were trying to do right by him. And RTI training was always done by non-SAS; no one wanted to torture someone they might have to work with in the future.

He wondered how this unit was going to square it with themselves. He wondered which unit they were.

He didn't have much time to wonder, though, as a rough bag was pulled over his head, and he was bundled out of the infirmary, shoved roughly down the steps into the body of the camp.

"This way," someone whispered hoarsely, clearly disguising their voice, and doing it well enough that Alex couldn't get a lock on it. It was familiar, but distantly so, familiar in the way that all of the soldiers' voices were becoming after nearly two weeks here.

He was all-but kicked down a rough path, stumbling and disorientated, the ground wet and muddy under his bare feet. It was freezing, expected for a March night in Wales, and Alex shivered convulsively, his thin hospital-issue pyjamas doing nothing to protect him from the cold. Suddenly, he felt ridiculous rather than scared – barefoot, in pyjamas, dragged along by soldiers who had no intention of actually hurting him, for a cod interrogation session designed to teach him how to deal with something he'd dealt with more times than he could even count. It would be better if they _had_ got someone outside the SAS to do this – someone who'd never met Alex and wouldn't care about roughing him up. But that voice, for all its disguise, _had_ been familiar, it was definitely a member of the SAS, and their uniforms were the same standard-issue ones Alex had been wearing for most of last week. He had no doubt that he'd be roughed up, that it would hurt, but no one knew better than that there were different types of pain, and these weren't the Green Jackets, who hated the SAS – they weren't going to _enjoy_ hurting him and that made all the difference.

It meant, too, that Alex could focus on the techniques B-Unit had taught him, rather than dealing with the pain. This was the first assignment he'd ever had where he was willing to deal with being tortured rather than give up any secrets – he owed his class a kind of loyalty he'd never owed MI6. He needed all the help he could get, and if this was the way he had the lessons reinforced, then so be it He'd learn to deal with it, no matter how bad they made it.

After all, they were unlikely to be as inventive as some of Alex's past encounters. He could do this, no matter how bad it was. He could even learn from it.

There was the creak of a door opening; suddenly there were dry wooden boards under his feet, and he was shoved roughly down onto a chair. His hands were tied to the chair behind his back, possibly even with wire, but the chair itself – Alex could tell by the scrape of it against his wrists – was wooden, which was something. Another mistake: they left his feet untied.

Alex could see blurry, indistinct shapes through the rough weave of the sack-cloth, enough to tell that the lights were on and that three of his interrogators were in front of him – he could expect something from behind then. He just had time to narrow his eyes before the bag was ripped off his head – he didn't want to start off totally disorientated by the bright light.

Slowly he opened his eyes as they got more and more used to the light, and he stared up at the three balaclava'd men who stood in front of him. Only their eyes were visible, and he couldn't recognise any of them by those – and their heights told him nothing either. They were all tall, but apart from Wolf, most of the SAS were big men. Unless the one lurking behind him was short, this wasn't K-Unit. It was, in its way, something a relief. Alex knew he wasn't going to enjoy the next few hours, but K-Unit would have gone easier on him than any of the others, and even if he didn't like it in practice, he understood the importance, in abstract, of going through this training – not to mention, he just wasn't sure he could have dealt with K-Unit's guilt on top of everything else.

"What's your name?" one of the men asked hoarsely, and Alex carefully didn't raise an eyebrow.

"Whatever you want it to be," he said, deadpan, and got a hefty slap across the face for his pains.

"Don't play games," another of them warned, and Alex laughed.

"Who's playing games?" he said, and wondered if he imagined one of the men's eyes widening behind his balaclava. Surprise? Shock? "My name is Alex. I don't know what you want with me."

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"I'm Alex," he repeated. "I don't know what I'm doing here – you brought me here."

"In this camp!" another of them snapped, and Alex noticed that they were drawing on padded gloves, not dissimilar to the ones he wore for sparring in his karate class.

So they could hit him without leaving marks, he realised, and braced himself for the first blow.

It didn't fall – not just yet, anyway, and Alex mentally marked them down for it. Now would be the perfect time to hit him; even if they wanted to keep him off his guard, it would highlight exactly how much he was at their mercy.

"I don't know why you want to know," he said, and _then_ they hit him, a blow to the stomach which landed right on top of one of the bruises Hawk had left on him after their last fight. Instinctively, he doubled over, and winced as his arms held him back.

"Why is your class here?" one of the others asked, and he realised that they were trying to disorientate him, not having the same person speak all the time, making sure he was always trying to work out who was talking, never quite sure of his ground.

"That's classified," Alex said, and couldn't quite stop a gasp as the man behind him grabbed his hair, yanking his head back.

"Why is your class here?" he demanded again, and Alex winced as his grip tightened in his hair.

"Classified," he said again, and cried out as one of the other men backhanded him across the face, the hand in his hair never loosening. The man's hand was padded, but the sheer blunt force of it hurt all the same, and his scalp felt like it was on fire.

It was OK to cry out, he remembered dimly from B-Unit's earlier, theoretical lessons on this. It provided an outlet. He could cry and scream and beg, whatever he needed to get through it, so long as he didn't give away anything useful.

"I'll ask one last time," one of them said darkly, "why are you here?"

"I can't tell you," Alex said, trying to regain a little composure to fight them off with.

Another punch to the stomach, and he was held in place by his arms and the hand in his hair, and he hung there, balanced between them, wheezing painfully.

"Who should we watch out for?" Someone hissed, getting right up in his face, one hand gripping painfully at his shoulder, thumb digging into the soft patch right above his collarbone.

Alex groped for a technique to cope, to take his mind off the hand gripping at his hair, the pain in his shoulder, the slow throbbing ache in his cheek. _Repetition_, Bear had said. _Pick a phrase and stick to it, repeat it over and over again. I used my codename, rank and serial number_. Well, Alex didn't have a proper codename, rank or serial number, but it was solid advice nonetheless.

"My name is Alex," he said tightly around the nagging pain. "I'm in year nine. I live in London-"

Whoever was gripping his shoulder had loosened his grasp, apparently believing Alex might be about to give away useful information, but as Alex went on, he took his hand off Alex's shoulder, and there was the ripping noise of Velcro being undone – Alex, with his head tilted back by the hand in his hair, couldn't see exactly what was going on. And then the man slapped him, open-handed and full across the face – the only saving grace was that the man holding his head back let go a split second after the other man struck Alex's face. His scalp felt numb, weirdly light and tingling distantly in a way Alex could objectively realise was probably pain, but it was nothing compared with the stinging ache of his cheek.

"We asked you who we should be looking out for," one of the other men said, stepping forwards, and Alex blinked, taking a deep breath.

"My name is Alex," he repeated. "I'm in year nine. I live in London. My name is-" Another blow to the stomach cut him off, and he jack-knifed forwards, hanging off the back of the chair by his arms. "My name is Alex," he wheezed. "I'm in year nine-"

He was cut off by a vicious kick to the shins, first one, then the other. "This doesn't have to hurt," the third man said dispassionately, watching from the back. "All you have to do is tell us who we should be watching out for."

Alex raised his head, and straightened despite the pain in his stomach. Looking directly into the man's eyes – the only part of him he could see – he nodded once, took as deep a breath as he could, and said carefully, "my name is Alex-"

One of them stepped forwards, and Alex realised distantly how clever it was not to let him see their faces. There was no humanising aspect to them – all he knew was that it must have been the man who'd slapped him earlier, because one of his hands was free from the padded gloves the others were wearing. Leaning right down, he gripped Alex's face, one hand under his chin, fingers digging into the soft skin of Alex's cheeks, yanking his head up to look him in the eye.

"You're going to tell us what we want to know," he said, low and certain. "We can make things very unpleasant for you."

_And not enjoy a single second of it_, Alex thought, somewhat cheered by that remembrance. The whole thing was horrible, of course, Alex knew that in a distant sort of way, but it was just something he had to live through and he'd be safe on the other side. Alex had been tortured by actual sadists in the past, after all, and this was a much more dispassionate affair. He just had to live through this – it was painful and miserable and everything else, but it was doable all the same.

He just had to live through it.

All the same, when he shook his head, even he didn't know whether he was disagreeing or trying to dislodge the man's uncomfortably tight grip on his face.

The man let go of him, almost throwing him against the back of the chair. "Well?" he demanded, and Alex shook his head again.

"My name is Alex," he said, feeling faintly foolish but equally determined. "I'm in year nine. I live in London."

One of them stepped forwards. "Perhaps you need a little time to think of another line," he said, and almost casually leant forwards, over Alex's shoulder, and tipped the chair backwards. Alex landed on his back with a thud that winded him, the slats of the chair-back digging into him, his arms caught painfully under the chair. He hadn't landed on them, thank God – if he had, he was pretty sure they'd be broken; there was a dip in the back of the chair that had stopped him landing on them, and he was reminded again that no one wanted any serious damage done to him. This chair had probably been specially chosen for the purpose. All the same, he was going to have some bruises tomorrow.

"Don't worry, we won't be gone long," one of them said, looking dispassionately down at Alex, feeling ridiculous, tied to the chair, on the floor. "Think about what you'd like to tell us when we get back."

* * *

They shut the door of the disused barracks behind them, and walked a few feet away from it before pulling off the uncomfortable balaclavas. All of them looked tense, and Wasp couldn't stop rubbing at the palm of his hand, an odd compulsive movement totally at odds with his usual physical calm.

"This," he said quietly, "is definitely the worst thing I've ever done."

Viper nodded but didn't vouchsafe a proper reply. "How long do we give him, d'you think?" he asked, casting a worried look back at the door of the barracks, and Adder shrugged.

"Too short, and this is all for nothing," he said tightly. "Twenty minutes, minimum. I'd say no less than an hour, honestly, but I don't think _I_ can hold out that long."

"Twenty minutes," Wasp nodded, and glanced down at the watch he wasn't wearing. They'd been warned about identifying objects. Frowning at himself, he fished it out of his pocket and took stock. "OK. What do we do now?"

"Hope none of the other units come up to check on us," Lemur said grimly. "I don't think I can look K-Unit in the eye after this."

No one replied, but their silence was agreement enough. "What's next, anyway?" Adder asked, tensely, and Wasp grimaced.

"You know what's next," he snapped, and Viper gave him a warning look. "Sorry," he muttered. "This is – _fuck_, this is awful."

"Focus, and get through it," Viper said levelly. "That's all we can do."

"You'd have thought we'd have learnt our lesson, after the last order we obeyed blindly with that kid," Wasp said, almost to himself. "But no, not content with beating the shit out of him in the name of training once, we're back for round two. This isn't the shit I signed up for."

"It's not the same, and this isn't what any of us signed up for," Adder said coolly, and Wasp spat and turned away. For the moment, his teammates let him – none of them were square enough with their consciences to argue with him on it.

* * *

Alex had guessed that they'd leave him alone at some point – leaving him to stew, uncertain of what would come next, was pretty standard practice, if he remembered correctly. He'd hoped that they'd leave the chair upright – he might (not without some pain and difficulty) have been able to break the wood and get out of here, but there was no way he could lever himself upright. His arms were starting to really hurt, a deep throbbing pain which told him the bruises would be impressively black and heavy tomorrow. He just hoped they didn't leave him here for too long – his arms were going to be painful enough tomorrow, but he would probably be able to get some use out of them. Too long, however, and there was a good chance he might not be able to move them, if the bruising set too deeply into the muscle.

Since he had no intention of telling them anything other than the phrases he'd already settled on – already becoming reassuringly familiar – there was very little to think about as he lay there. He had to hook his legs around the legs of the chair, to avoid slipping off at an awkward angle and possible damaging something. It was all too easy to start cataloguing his aches and pains: the throbbing pain in his scalp, the burn of the side of his face, his arms, his stomach...

It took a small effort of will to drag his thoughts away from it. What was coming next? And when was it coming? Alex had a pretty good internal clock, but he couldn't tell how much time had passed. Not too long, he thought, but long enough that the blood was starting to pound in his head, and his arms were starting to really hurt.

Then, suddenly, though he hadn't even heard them come back into the room – he cursed himself for not paying more attention – he was being pulled upright, flinching at the sudden white-hot burst of pain in his arms as blood rushed back into them.

Three of the men were in front of him again, and Alex wondered distractedly whether it was the same three, or whether they'd switched roles.

He watched them warily as they grouped themselves in front of him.

"This would be so much easier," one of them said gently, "if you'd just tell us what we want to know."

Alex considered this, and toyed with the idea of just repeating his stock phrase again. Finally, he shrugged – half his mind was busy wondering what the man behind him was planning, anyway. "I don't have anything to say," he said simply.

One of the men leant right down into his face, his eyes – brown, nondescript – staring into Alex's. "Why are you in this camp? What are your class doing here? Who sent you?" he said softly. "This can all be over, right now. All you have to do is tell us what you know."

Alex took stock of his situation again, and decided that he had nothing to lose by flippancy. "Henry the Eighth had six wives," he began, and cried out as the man slapped him. There was blood in his mouth; his lip was split.

"Do you think we're joking?" another man asked pleasantly, stepping forward.

"Yeah, you're real comedians," Alex said, suddenly tired of this. Was this it? Being tied to a chair and beaten? If this was all they had planned for him, it was chickenfeed compared with what he'd been through before.

A punch to the gut was the only response. "Who sent you here?" Someone barked as Alex hung forward, trying to double up and hanging against the back of the chair.

"No comment," he managed, and only just caught the nod one of the three in front of him sent to the man waiting behind him.

Suddenly, someone was fiddling with the ropes, possibly untying them, and Alex wished viciously that his arms weren't so numb and stiff, because this was the _perfect_ opening, but he was going to have to work twice as hard with his arms half out of commission.

The man behind him didn't just let Alex go – he held him down in the chair with a heavy grip on his shoulder, but Alex took advantage of that to throw himself and the chair backwards, right into the man's midriff. The man doubled over, leaning all the more heavily on Alex's shoulder, but he wasn't gripping it anymore, and Alex slid out from under him, sparing half a glance to watch him half-fall over the chair, off-balance without Alex to hold him up.

The other three, after a split second of indecision, came at him as a pack, and Alex made a split decision – they were between him and the door, but he didn't have to _beat_ them – all he had to do was get _past_ them. Once he was out the door, he could run for it. He just had to get out the door.

He didn't know which unit this was – he had no idea what their strengths and weaknesses were. All he could to was hit and hope, and he didn't have the time to think it through any further before they were converging on him.

He struck out blindly, a side-kick his instructor would have wept over, and allowed himself a little relief as his foot connected with someone's knee – not hard enough to do permanent damage, but a debilitating strike nonetheless. The other two came at him at once, and though one of them grabbed his arm, he twisted in their grip, using them as a ballast to offset the kick he sent at the third member of the group, catching him in the stomach before he could block it. The man he'd winded was recovering, and Alex's window of escape was closing fast – he threw his head back, catching the man holding him in the throat, making him cough, all the while searching with his free hand for the nerve in the man's wrist which would loosen his grip. There! The man's grasp on him weakened, and Alex dodged the other men's attempts to catch him, and ran for it.

As he'd expected, the door wasn't locked – which was on oversight. Not expecting him to get free, they hadn't bothered with the most rudimentary of secondary defences. He was out, on the porch, in the biting cold of the March night. Rather than poeticise about it, Alex allowed himself nothing but a half-relieved thought before he took off, running for the nearest light he could see.

He didn't get far. Before he'd gone fifty yards, something heavy hit him from behind, and it took a second for him to work out that he'd just been effectively rugby tackled, by thirteen stone of SAS soldier. He went down hard – there was a burst of pain in his forehead – and everything went black.

* * *

Adder pulled Cub up with him as he clambered awkwardly up, and it was only when he realised that Cub wasn't holding his own weight or trying to fight that he realised he'd accidentally knocked the kid out. There was a bleeding cut on his forehead – presumably from a stone or something of the kind – and he was limp, hanging from the grip Adder had on his arm.

Swearing to himself, Adder slung one of the kid's arms around his own shoulders, wrapped his around Cub's waist, and half-dragged, half-carried him back into the empty barracks.

"Shit," Viper hissed when he saw him, "_shit_, Adder, what the-"

"It was an accident," he bit out, putting the kid back in his chair and standing back. Cub did look bad – there was blood down half his face, and he was very pale under the strip-lighting in the barracks. "He hit his head when he went down."

"What now?" Wasp asked. "Do we continue?"

"If we don't continue, we're leaving the job half-done," Viper bit out, "and everything we've done so far will be a waste, we'll just have been beating the kid up for fun."

"Can we at least treat his bleeding head-wound?" Wasp asked, an ironical lilt to his voice, and Viper glared at him, unseen through the balaclava.

"Hell, Wasp, I don't know," he snapped. "I've never done RTI on anyone else, have I? Let alone a teenager."

"We should maybe at least tie him to the chair again," Lemur suggested, rather calmer than any of his teammates. "He's pretty feisty."

"I think we call it off," Wasp said briskly. "The kid was just in the infirmary like, two days ago, for head trauma, we don't want to risk him getting worse."

"We can't," Viper said, looking down at Cub, and none of the rest of his team could see the tortured indecision on his face. "We've got our orders."

"I think this contravenes them!" Wasp said sharply, gesturing at Cub.

"Clean the cut," Viper said, firmly, "put antiseptic on it, slip him some painkillers. We're continuing with this."

Even through the balaclava, it was clear that the look Wasp was giving him was by no means friendly – but he did as he was asked, all the same.

* * *

When Alex came round, the cut on his forehead was stinging horribly, and he felt woozy and disorientated, a little nauseous, and a lot fed up.

"Aren't we done here?" he said muzzily.

"Nowhere near," one of them said brusquely. "We've still got so much to talk about."

"I do enjoy our little chats," Alex agreed blurrily, rolling his shoulders out and twisting out his neck. "But it's starting to feel a little one-sided. How do you expect our relationship to succeed if you don't open yourselves u-" He grunted as someone lashed out with one foot, lightning fast, catching him on the shin. _Cobra, maybe?_ he thought, then shook his head, as if to clear it. B-Unit weren't going to be involved in this little funfest on anything other than a theoretical level.

"Don't get cute with us, sunshine," one of them growled, and Alex distractedly gave him eight out of ten for delivery. He'd actually sounded quite sinister – though Alex, more used to infinitely more life-threatening situations, was still finding it a little difficult to get into the mindset. He knew he had the motivation in a real situation – he knew that if it came down to it, he would rather endure than give up his classmates, but while he wanted to learn, while he accepted that this whole scenario was designed to make him learn, he also couldn't help that he _knew_, deep down, that this was just role-playing. It was an unpleasant game, not real life, and he was rapidly losing patience with it.

"Remind me again," he said, managing a smile. "What did you want to know?"

"Who should we keep an eye on?" another one of them asked, stepping forwards. "Which person do we have to watch?"

"That Kylie, she's a whizz-kid with her equations," Alex told him, looking straight into the man's eyes without blinking, until someone smacked him across the face. "Or maybe it's Katie, I'm not good with names-" another smack, and he subsided, feeling his teeth with his tongue. He was bleeding, but he was pretty sure his teeth had cut into the side of his mouth, rather than a tooth coming loose. Either way, he took some satisfaction on spitting out the blood onto one of the men's shoes, even though he had to lean painfully against his bonds to do it.

"This doesn't have to get any nastier," one of them said again, gentling his voice a little. "All you have to do is-"

"Sell out my classmates, tell you everything you want to know, get on with my life feeling like a dirty traitor," Alex finished for him, wearily. "Also, you're terrible at good cop-bad cop."

So far as Alex could see, none of them cracked a smile.

"Why are you lot here?" Someone asked, and Alex frowned.

"If you don't know that, why do you want to know who to watch out for?" he asked, and was slapped again for his pains.

"It's like you don't even know how interrogation works," one of them said, and Alex strained his brain, because that voice sounded familiar, more familiar than any of them had sounded so far. Then he let it go. He couldn't psych them out by working out who they were, and it would be less painful if he didn't know who was responsible for this. A generalised wariness was better than a specific distaste.

"I know just fine," he said instead. "You, on the other hand-" He broke off, because he was being untied again – though this time, his hands were held in place behind his back, another hand back in his hair. He almost rolled his eyes – the one-handed grip on his wrists would be laughably easy to break, and if they thought he wouldn't risk a little pain to escape, they had another thought coming.

They apparently read something in his eyes, however, and someone else moved forwards to help hold him down, while a third person grabbed an arm none-too-gently from whoever was holding him, yanking him upright the moment the ropes came loose.

"I'll tell you one last time," one of them gritted out. "We can do this the hard way, or the easy way, it's entirely up to you."

Alex paused, nerves coiling in the pit of his stomach. He didn't have an option, not really – he had to learn to withstand this kind of thing, so going through the worst these men could bring themselves to throw at him was effectively the point. And he couldn't sell out his classmates – but all the same, he wondered just how hard the hard way was going to be.

"Bring on the hard way, I guess," he said, and didn't fight as he was yanked backwards, effectively by his hair, through a doorway he hadn't seen, at the back of the room – he'd never actually had the chance to see the room properly before now, but it was every bit as bare and cheerless as he'd imagined.

The room he was frogmarched into was just as bare, with a flat, cold concrete floor. Alex's feet were freezing, the mud beginning to dry on his cold skin, and he might have been tempted to stamp his feet, to try and get circulation back into them, but he had a feeling it wasn't going to help all that much.

From the tiled walls, this had at one point been a shower room, attached to the barracks – but the showers had been torn out, leaving blank concrete spaces in the tiles. The soldiers' boots echoed on the ground – but most worrying was the tub of water set up against the far wall. Alex had a horrible feeling he knew what was coming.

Oddly, the soldiers didn't haul him over to it immediately, and he wondered whether they were loath to start or whether they were trying to intimidate him. Whichever they intended, he certainly _felt_ intimidated – the tub was an ominous reminder of just how much he was at their mercy. They _wouldn't_ drown him – he had to survive this session, after all – but in a similar situation he'd have no such guarantee. Probably they wouldn't want him to die – but that wouldn't necessarily _stop_ them.

"Anything you'd like to tell us?" one of the men asked idly, and Alex shook his head. Someone kneed him casually in the stomach, and he doubled over. "Nothing?"

"Nothing you want to hear, it seems," Alex said, breathless and winded, and trying not to look at the tub of water stood in the corner.

"Let's see if we can't jog your memory," one of them said, and Alex would have been amused by the stereotypically bad dialogue – which more than anything else flagged up how uncomfortable these men felt about the whole situation – had he not been being dragged towards the tub. He took a couple of seconds to react as they dragged him forwards, then began to struggle, kicking out, throwing his weight backwards and doing his damnedest to get away. He didn't have his hands free, so there was a limited amount of damage he could do, and he knew, anyway, that it was a foregone conclusion before he even started – he was a teenager, and he was up against four fully-grown men who were now taking proper precautions against letting him get free, but it went entirely against the grain with him to do nothing. Even so, one man had his hand in Alex's hair, the other gripping his wrist tightly – another had his arm around Alex's shoulders, his free hand holding Alex's arm behind his back in an awkward half-nelson. They almost carried him over to the tub, and their hold on him didn't loosen for a second; there was nothing he could do.

"Any last thoughts?" one of them asked, and Alex barely had time to shake his head, not even sure what he was disagreeing with, before one of them – the man with the hand in his hair, was shoving him forward. His face hit the water with a splash, the cold of it stinging viciously, and he half-screamed, shock and panic taking over when he couldn't breath. He hadn't had time to take a deep breath before the shoved him under, and it felt like his lungs were going to burst; he could feel every panicked beat of his heart in his throat.

He kicked out wildly behind him, struggling desperately to get out from under the hands holding him down. Someone recoiled, their hands leaving his shoulders, but someone else replaced them instantly.

When he was allowed up again, he almost choked, gulping down air and hanging in his captors' grasp. He could feel his brain responding sluggishly to his predicament, slowed down by what felt like chronic oxygen deprivation, though he knew academically that he couldn't have been under for more than a minute and very likely less. This _was_ a training situation after all – though it felt like he was drowning, they were neither going to kill him nor leave him under for an unspecified length of time. Someone was probably timing this to make sure they did everything just right.

He _knew_ that – he just couldn't tell himself that when he was under water.

"Anything you'd like to share?" Someone asked lazily, and Alex spat in the direction of the sound, not bothering to say anything. He wasn't sure he could trust his voice.

He didn't get a chance to find out before they were shoving him under water again. It was horribly quiet – quiet enough to hear his blood pounding in his ears – and nothing to distract him from the way his chest seemed to be constricting with the lack of air, forcing him consciously not to breath in. He gritted his teeth against it, but it couldn't have been a few more seconds before panic took over. They seemed to be holding him down forever, and his struggles were half-hearted at best – he was at completely the wrong angle to do anything except kick out feebly – but that left him off-balance, the edge of the metal tub digging painfully into his chest.

After what felt like hours, he couldn't help himself – without conscious volition, he took a deep breath – and was yanked out of the water, coughing painfully, hanging in their grasp again.

"Still nothing?" someone asked, fake-sympathy in every syllable.

"Nothing," Alex agreed, his voice rasping painfully in his throat. He felt oddly nauseous, freaked and off-balance. He'd been threatened with vivisection and almost put live through a meat-grinder, but those had been nothing more than threats – and while he was living through it, this felt like the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

But then, he reminded himself firmly, it always did. And this time, even though it was just a training simulation, he didn't have the option of giving in.

He felt oddly vulnerable, though, in a way he hadn't before this. All his previous assurance had fallen away. It had been easy before, when it was just bruises and slaps and poorly-thought-out questions. Alex knew he could withstand anything like that – he'd done so before, and he had every confidence in his ability to do it again. This was new, and it was frightening him.

But giving in wasn't an option, so he'd just have to struggle through as best he could.

"Tie his legs," one of them holding him up grunted. "I'm fed up of being kicked in the shins." He shook Alex roughly in retribution, and the other man casually kicked Alex's own legs out from under him. Their grip on his arms was painful, just above the bruises the chair had left on him when it tipped over, and he winced as they caught him roughly and hauled him to his feet.

Someone tied his feet together tightly, the rough rope chafing through the thin cotton of his pyjamas, and he shivered, suddenly aware that he was cold. Between shock and panic and the slowly receding adrenaline, he hadn't even noticed it, but the pyjama shirt he was wearing was soaked through, and the small, high window in this room was wide open. He was _freezing,_ and immediately as he noticed it, he began to shiver violently, clenching his teeth to stop them from chattering.

He didn't see the worried look his interrogators exchanged, to busy trying desperately to think of some strategy to get through this. He couldn't say anything – that option was out – and he couldn't escape – not with his feet tied and held entirely at the mercy of these men. In the space of a few seconds, he considered his options and discarded them almost as soon as they came to mind. He had nothing – he could only wait and try and get through this as best he could.

The next time he was pulled up from the tub, shivering and coughing, he was nearly sick – _not surprising_, he thought clinically to himself, almost entirely detached from what was going on, oddly apathetic when they shoved him back under the water, _adrenaline leaving the system – shock – lack of sleep – head injury. Should have expected nausea_. He couldn't ignore the way his body reacted, the sheer stress of remembering not to breath, not to even open his mouth – he knew that any amount of water in the lungs could destroy the blood cells and kill him anyway. If he had to open his mouth, it would be to expel air, not to breathe it in.

They couldn't have done it more than five times – though each was worse than the last, each more difficult and more frightening – before pulling back, yanking him roughly away from the tub and letting him fall heavily against the wall, unable to catch his balance with his leg still tied.

One of them crouched down in front of him, yanking his face towards them. "We can do this as long as we need," he said casually. "All you have to do is tell us what we want to know."

"I don't even know what you want to know anymore," Alex rasped, and got a slap to the face for his pains.

"Who of your classmates is the most dangerous?" Another of the men asked, and the one crouched by him shook him roughly before shoving him back into the wall.

"Joe is lethal on a bike," Alex told them, as seriously as he could. He felt like his head was spinning, the room oddly blurry in front of him. "No road-sense-"

Someone kicked at his legs and he cried out as they connected with his knee, hard enough to bruise but not hard enough to do any damage. Oh, he was going to be sore tomorrow, he just knew. He was barely controlling the nausea, and his head was pounding painfully, vision oddly blurry.

"Who should we watch out for?" Someone else asked, but Alex doubled up instead of reply, vomiting miserably on the man's shoes.

He got a box to the ears for his pains, and someone was saying something, but he couldn't pay attention to them. Coughing painfully, spots in his vision, it was almost a relief just to pass out.

* * *

It took a couple of seconds for them to realise that Cub had in fact passed out, and by the time Viper realised it, Wasp was already untying the kid's feet.

"We're done," he said shortly. "You can write me up for insubordination, but if you continue with this, you do it without me."

"No – no, it's OK," Viper said, itching to pull off his balaclava. "We're done."

"What do we do now?" Adder asked, rather blankly.

"Take him up to the infirmary and get him treatment," Wasp said briskly. "We can hang around-"

"No, we can't," Viper intervened, coming back to himself a little, one eye as ever on the practicalities. "We're all over water, and if we're the first on the scene, he'll know it was us. We take him to the infirmary and fetch K-Unit."

"Wolf is going to go mental," Lemur observed dispassionately, already helping Wasp haul the kid to his feet, slinging one of the boy's arms round his own shoulders and helping Wasp lift the kid off the ground – dragging him along wasn't an option anymore. The cut on the boy's forehead, he noted, was still raw, though not bleeding anymore, and the water they'd used had at least been clean – they'd made sure of that much beforehand.

"Wolf isn't my problem right now," Viper said impatiently.

"Who's on the night-staff at the infirmary? Tell me there's a doctor on-hand for this bollocks," Adder said, following Lemur and Wasp out. "There's a whole load of shit he's going to need checked out before anyone gives him a clean bill of health."

"It's not like he had one to start with," Wasp grunted, already starting the trek back up to the infirmary with Lemur while his other team-mates trailed behind.

* * *

Cub looked very small when they deposited him back on his bed in the infirmary, wet hair still plastered to his forehead, still out cold.

"He's freezing," Wasp said dispassionately. "Someone needs to go and look for a doctor – I think he's going into shock."

"I'll do it," Viper said firmly. "The rest of you, head back to barracks and get K-Unit here."

"You get to tell Eagle that we knocked the kid out, twice," Wasp said, a final parting shot, and Viper nodded, carefully avoiding looking at the bed. The boy they'd dealt with down in the abandoned barracks hadn't seemed so young, or so vulnerable.

"Hey, Adder," he said, as his team-mates trooped past him. "Tell- when you get to the barracks. Tell 'em he did good."

Adder gave him a long look, raised an eyebrow and nodded. "He did, didn't he?" he agreed quietly. "For such a little thing."

"Less talking, more finding a doctor," Wasp said crisply, clearly unwilling to reflect on how well Cub had coped under torture, and Viper didn't bother posturing about any challenge to his authority – he wasn't sure he wanted to dwell on it either. Cub had done well – extraordinarily well – for a kid his age, but Viper didn't like what that said about the kid, and he didn't like thinking about what they'd done.

The cotton of the kid's top had gone see-through with the water, and there were dark splotches on his torso and arms – Viper couldn't tell how many of those were fresh, and how many of them had come from Hawk or their earlier training sessions, but it was enough to know that they'd done any of them.

He looked at the kid for a second longer, and turned on his heel – he had to find a doctor.

* * *

When Alex came to, he was back in his room in the infirmary, and he was alone. Someone had left him lying on his bed, and the light was still on – but he was still in his wet pyjamas, and the bed underneath him felt uncomfortably damp and cold.

He was still freezing, in fact, his body waking up slowly and beginning to shiver uncontrollably. He had to get warm, and fast – he had a little experience of how it felt to go into shock, and he wouldn't be surprised if he was close to it now.

Warmth, he thought – warmth and somewhere to lie down that wasn't cold and unpleasantly damp.

Sitting up was the first challenge – he felt stiff and sore, and his head swam a little as he came upright. But it was oddly pleasant just to walk across the room under his own steam, not about to be yanked back or held hostage or hurt in any way.

Though – he paused, one hand on the door handle. What if this was a test? Or the calm before the storm? He'd just woken up here by himself, he had no idea where the unit had gone. They could be waiting for him – they could be anywhere.

It wasn't likely, though, he told himself. Why bring him all the way back here? Why leave him alone to wake up in a room where – he checked – the door wasn't even locked? It didn't make sense for them to leave him here like this.

All the same, his heart was still pounding as he looked up and down the dimly lit corridor. It was reassuringly empty, but he couldn't calm the instincts that told him that he was under attack, and those had saved him before. While they were likely irrational now, he wasn't about to ignore them entirely.

Easing himself back into his room, and shutting the door, he thought for a long second. Where would he be safest?

He smiled rather grimly to himself – of course. Where he'd _always_ been safest, up till now – hidden in plain sight.

Pausing for a moment to strip off his wet pyjamas and pull himself into his combat gear, yanking on his boots and lacing them up tightly, he glanced around the room again, and flicked off the lights. Sliding out into the corridor, careful to make as little noise as possible, though his rubber-soled boots were inclined to squeak on the linoleum, he stole out of the infirmary.

It was a dark night, and the camp didn't keep lights on after dark – anyone foolish enough to fall over deserved what they got, as far as the SAS were concerned. Alex had an advantage over his classmates, at least, since he knew this camp fairly well, and certainly knew by now how to navigate his way from the infirmary to the barracks where his classmates were sleeping. He'd have to be up before them, and be careful not to wake anyone when he stole in, but he had every confidence he could manage it – and if he didn't, they would surely be willing to believe he sleepwalked.

They'd believed just about every other lie, after all.

Unwilling to linger too long, he took off in a rather shaky run. It probably wasn't the best idea – he still felt odd and uncoordinated – but he figured it would get his circulation going again, get his body-temperature up a little. And it was pleasant, too, to breathe easily, seeing his breath appear in a cloud in the cold night air. He was still freezing, still frightened – not quite starting at every shadow, but appropriately wary of them all, at least – but he was in control again. He could be in control again.

* * *

"What do you mean, 'he's not there'?" Wolf demanded of Viper when K-Unit arrived at the infirmary. "He's got to be there!"

"He isn't," Viper said shortly, "and his clothes are gone. Dr. Aintree went to him to check him over, and he's disappeared."

"He's got to still be in the building," Eagle said slowly. "He can't have gone far...?"

"Why would he take his clothes?" Viper retorted.

"What, you think he went for a midnight stroll?" Eagle demanded viciously, and Viper shook his head at him, shooting him an angry glare.

"I think he panicked and ran for it, and searching the infirmary isn't going to do a damn bit of good," he snapped, and Snake put a hand on Eagle's shoulder warningly.

"Maybe not, but it's as good a place as any to start. Your unit's waiting for you, Viper," he said simply, and Viper flushed angrily at the obvious dismissal, but didn't say anything. "Keep an eye out for Cub on your way back, would you?"

Viper muttered something which sounded distinctly uncomplimentary and made good his escape.

He saw no sign of Cub on his way back to the barracks, but found his unit still in K-Unit's, with the other three units who'd been co-opted into the kid's training.

"How is he?" Wasp asked, in a frankly laughable attempt to sound casual.

"Missing," Viper said shortly, sitting on Eagle's bed and just managing not to heave a sigh of relief. The stress he'd been under was slipping away – now all he had to deal with was the guilt. "By the time I found a doctor, Cub'd already disappeared."

"Oh, well, that's just perfect," Wasp gritted out, and Viper glared at him.

"Hey, you two," Adder said quickly. "None of that. Cub is officially not our concern until the morning, understood? If we have to search the base for him, we will, but let's cross that bridge when we come to it, not before, mkay?"

"Fine," Viper agreed shortly. "I'm going to shower. If we're needed, I'll be in our barracks."

"I'm with you," Lemur said, heaving himself to his feet and heading for the door. "I've had enough drama for one night."

"Was-" Bear visibly pulled himself together before trying again. "Was he OK? Did he do OK?"

"He was unconscious," Lemur said, never one to mince words, "when we left him, at least. But he did good during the session. Really good."

"Too good," Wasp muttered. "I'll lay you good money that wasn't the first interrogation he's had."

"Of course it wasn't," Viper said, his own feelings too confused to consider Bear's, or anyone else's. "The boy's a spy. The minute he gets caught – and of course he's been caught, K-Unit said he'd been shot, didn't they? And this lot know about him, so he's made enemies – the minute he's caught, he's going to get interrogated. And I'll bet what we did to him seems like child-play in comparison."

"Well, there's a sop for our consciences," Wasp said caustically, and stood. "I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

Hawk had one hand on Bear's shoulder, gripping just a little too tightly, and Bear shook it off to stand. Everyone's eyes were on him the minute he moved, and he offered the room a tight smile. "Bed," he said firmly. "C'mon, everyone. K-Unit'll come and get us if we're needed, and we've still gotta teach the kid tomorrow. It's too late for soul-searching now, anyway." The last was directed at Hawk, who looked frankly anguished. Even in the midst of his own confusion, Viper spared the guy a moment's sympathy – he'd screwed up massively, in a way that had got Command's attention, and his whole future with the SAS was under serious consideration.

In some ways, Viper thought he might have done them a favour. They were confused and in the dark about things at the moment, but they'd been even more in the dark before Hawk had acted like a tit, and now at least they were working with their eyes open. He couldn't condone what Hawk had done – but then he couldn't condone what _they'd_ just done, so while he was in a glass house, he wasn't going to throw any stones around.

For the moment, Cub was again K-Unit's problem. K-Unit would come and get them if they were wanted, and Viper had enough problems to deal with without borrowing trouble from the future or taking on those of other units. There'd be time for that kind of team-building crap later, when everything was a little less raw.

With an awkward nod to the other units, he slipped off to bed.

* * *

Alex found himself faced with an unexpected problem when he got to the showers. Though he was still cold, though his hands were shaking with it and his breath was coming in shivering pants, he couldn't bring himself to step into the spray.

He could still _feel_ water on his face, pressing on his eyes and nose and mouth, in his ears, and it terrified him. And now he was frightened of having a _shower._

He actually laughed at himself, sharp and cruel, the sound echoing hollowly around the tiled room – which wasn't helping either. It was all too like the room he'd been in just an hour or so earlier.

He was standing nearly naked just outside the edge of the shower cubicle, and even the feel of the spray hitting his face was enough to make him flinch. Glancing at himself in the mirror as he undressed, he had new bruises coming up on his stomach and arms, dark red and angry. There were bruises coming up along his jaw line from where his face had been held, and he hoped those would fade quickly – he didn't want to have to explain those to anyone. Knowing his luck, Manning would see them, and then awkward questions would be asked.

Of course, tomorrow night, awkward questions were going to be asked anyway – Dr. Manning's wife was coming up to the camp to talk to him, and he was going to have to go through everything with her again. Could he even talk to her? How far did patient confidentiality go, in this case? His work was classified and he could get the Mannings in serious trouble if he said too much. And he _would_ say too much, just by saying anything at all.

Not to mention, no matter how appealing it had sounded last night, Alex wasn't sure he even _could_ talk to anyone about it. He could do the things he did, so long as he never had to talk about them.

But he was distracting himself from the point at hand. Gritting his teeth, steeling himself against the pervasive cold, he slid his boxers off and stepped into the shower.

The moment water hit his face, he almost screamed, choking the sound back so only a cracked, painful noise escaped, echoing round the room like his laugh. The shower was too hot, he thought wildly, it felt like it was burning, though he knew it was barely tepid, he'd tested it against his hand before he got in.

Soon it would start to feel OK, he told himself firmly, and tried to ignore the way water pouring over his face felt oddly invasive.

It wasn't helped by his feelings of vulnerability. He didn't know whether he'd been left in his room because his lesson was over or to inspire false feelings of safety in him, but if the latter had been the intention, it hadn't worked. Now, in the shower, as he slowly warmed back up – he turned the shower up fractionally, and winced as the hotter water hit his shoulders – he felt horribly exposed. He'd only turned one light on, and the shower room was half-dark; he hadn't wanted anyone to see a light on and come and investigate, but now every dark space in the room could be hiding anything at all.

He kept turning the temperature of the water up, trying to keep his face out of the spray as much as possible, though he knew at some point he'd have to deal with it. In fact – he steeled himself, and pulled back into the shower, turning his face up into the steady downpour.

It felt awful; he tried to keep his eyes open and couldn't, but he lasted barely five seconds with them shut before he pulled out again, gasping as if he'd run a marathon.

But that was OK, he thought to himself. That was alright. He could improve on five seconds, and he could get past this. So long as he didn't let it become a full-blown phobia, he'd be alright.

He felt almost human again, though warmth felt odd as he got used to the increased temperature of the shower; his fingers felt swollen and unwieldy, unpleasantly stiff as the feeling coming back to them as his circulation improved. He'd had to steal a towel from the infirmary before he came down, but he was already not looking forward to stepping back into the unforgiving cold of the shower room, beyond his warm shower.

_Damned if I do, and damned if I don't_, he thought to himself with grim good humour – either the water or the cold would get him, one way or the other.

He couldn't have been in the shower for more than about fifteen minutes before he switched it off, but he was proud of himself for it. He'd been frightened and had done it anyway (wasn't that the story of his life?), and that was the real victory. The torture had been every bit as bad as he'd expected – it wasn't called torture for nothing after all – but he could function as normal, or as 'normal' as he ever got. Even if he didn't have help, he was OK, and would continue to be OK.

He dressed himself with fingers still oddly clumsy after heating up so rapidly, and slipped into the barracks his male classmates were staying in, making his way almost silently to his old bed. It was, he guessed, going on for one o'clock, if not later, and no one was stirring. He'd have to be up early to get out without anyone seeing him, but he could do it, he was sure.

* * *

K-Unit had spent nearly two hours in a fruitless search before Fox tentatively suggested that Cub might have gone back to his classmates.

"Safety in numbers, don't you think?" he said, eyeing Eagle, who dragged a hand over his face.

"It's as good an idea as any," Snake backed him up.

"Yes, he _could_ be safe with his classmates," Eagle disagreed, "or he _could_ have got lost in a giant fucking national park and fallen over a cliff."

"OK, well I do at least trust Cub not to fall over a cliff," Fox muttered. "He's not stupid, he had survival training like the rest of us."

"Not right after RTI, he didn't," Wolf put in his tuppence, "and we can't check if he's with his classmates, not without waking the other brats up and blowing his cover. Bloody stupid place for him to have gone."

"No, it's not," Fox objected. "You heard what Viper said. The kid was unconscious. He clearly came round and made a run for it-"

"_Why_?!"

"Because no one told him it was over," Fox said impatiently. "He didn't know it was over and took the first opportunity to bolt."

"And hid somewhere we couldn't get at him," Snake finished up, and Fox nodded, shooting him a triumphant look.

"Well, that's all well and good," Eagle said, "but we can't prove it, we can't check on him, and goddammit, he needs to be seen by a medic. And _because_ we can't check, we can't even be sure that's what he did."

"And we're not going to find him out here in the dark," Wolf said, after a moment's pause. "We haven't even got so much as a torch, this is ridiculous. Come on, we'll deal with this in the morning, early."

"I'll be right behind you," Eagle said in a low voice to Snake as he passed him, and though Snake gave him a long, level look, he didn't argue.

"Half an hour, Eagle," he said simply, and followed Fox and Wolf back down to their barracks.

* * *

Travelling at a brisk jog, Eagle was outside the barracks they'd given over to the brats in less than three minutes, and paused briefly just outside the door. He needed to be quiet, or there'd be a lot of unanswered questions floating around – and Wolf would kill him.

Opening the door quietly, he stepped lightly into the impromptu dormitory. The silence felt oddly heavy, the way a room always felt when someone was sleeping in it, but Eagle had shared a room with other men since he'd joined the army years ago – he wasn't worried about waking anyone, least of all teenagers who, he knew from having been one, generally slept like the dead.

Except Cub, he added to himself, and glanced along the two rows of sleeping boys. If Cub wasn't there, there should have been an empty bed – but all were occupied. Needing to reassure himself further, he tried to pick out Cub, and finally found him, curled in on himself in the bed nearest the corner. He looked to be fast asleep, and Eagle allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief. Cub looked OK – his hair was damp, but there were no obvious bruises anywhere that he could see – not that D-Unit would have been that careless, but Eagle was at least willing to admit to himself that he worried unduly when it came to Cub.

Relieved and reassured, he made his way out of the barracks, and headed back up to his own.

* * *

Behind him, in the barracks, Alex let out a long, almost silent sigh, half relief, half pent-up fear. Until he heard the sigh, he hadn't known which man had come into the room – though he'd known someone else was there the moment the door opened. He'd known, too, that if they'd grabbed him, he couldn't have fought – not in here, with his classmates. He'd have to have gone with them.

But it had been Eagle, presumably coming to check on him, to make sure he was alright. And though Alex could still feel the hands on his shoulders, holding him down, under water, for some odd reason, he still felt reassured by that.

Turning onto his back and staring up at the ceiling, he took a long, deep breath, and shut his eyes.

For now, for once, his problems could wait until tomorrow.

* * *

FIN! For now. Yes, I know, I said they'd be leaving the camp this chapter. I lied. I didn't mean to, but I did - this monster grew to 10 000 words and it became increasingly obvious that they weren't going anywhere just yet.

ANYWAY, on a serious note: if someone is going into shock, or if you yourself go into shock, DO NOT DO WHAT ALEX DID. This is a story in which the main character generally makes pretty poor life-choices, and has some pretty shocking ones forced on him. You should base ABSOLUTELY NONE of your life on what you read here, and base EVEN LESS of your health-related choices on Alex's actions. Getting warm, YES! Using water to do it? Perhaps not a great idea. Hiding yourself in a corner and hoping no one finds you? THIS IS A TERRIBLE IDEA. DO NOT DO IT. I know, I'm stating the bleeding obvious. I'd rather do that than have anyone think that anything written here is a suggestion for how to deal with shock. Talk to a doctor, not the internet. (Or not THIS part of the internet.)

Final disclaimer: I tried to research everything that happens in this chapter - with the result that my Google search looks like a list of bullet points for the essay, "How to be a Complete Nutjob" (sadly, not one of my MA essays D:) - but my results came from Google, not a medical degree or personal experience. I astonish no one when I say I haven't been tortured. I also don't have PTSD and I've never been into shock. The emotional reactions Alex goes through are pure speculation on my part.

That being said, I hope you enjoyed it! And **cwena**, I'm sorry your birthday present is a bit nuts. :D

ami xxx


	19. Chapter 19

Well looky here! A chapter of HIOP! Yes, I know, we're all very shocked.

Since my last update, I have completed (though not yet gained) an MA and half-killed myself writing a dissertation which is almost exactly as long as this chapter. Coincidentally, I half-killed myself writing this chapter, just more slowly. (My dissertation was fascinating. No, really. (When I had it bound, though, it honestly was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen in my life.)) Anyway, I hope you forgive the incredibly long wait, because you are all lovely and forgiving people; up next for me is a law conversion course, which means life does not get less stressful. Also, applications to law firms for a job, which is roughly the equivalent of begging. "PLEASE EMPLOY ME! I SWEAR I AM A SANE AND CAPABLE MEMBER OF SOCIETY!" (See also: lying.) But hopefully (aha. ahahaha. AHAHAHAHA.) I'll get another chapter up before the end of the year?

I can promise you I will try, at the very least.

I say this at the end, too, but DO NOT THINK THIS STORY IS OVER. THE BEST IS YET TO COME. (Well. MORE is yet to come, at any rate.) I hope you'll continue to stick with us on this fascinating journey through time, space and my twisted subconscious! (It's possible my sales pitch needs some work.)

Anyway, witty and amusing though I clearly am, I will let you get on, and here it is... for one night only... the one, the only...

DISCLAIMER!: By this time next year, I should be able to tell you the legal ramifications of a fake claim to own Alex Rider. Were I the actual owner, I wouldn't need to know.

* * *

_In the barracks, Alex let out a long, almost silent sigh, half relief, half pent-up fear. Until he heard the sigh, he hadn't known which man had come into the room – though he'd known someone else was there the moment the door opened. He'd known, too, that if they'd grabbed him, he couldn't have fought – not in here, with his classmates. He'd have to have gone with them._

_But it had been Eagle, presumably coming to check on him, to make sure he was alright. And though Alex could still feel the hands on his shoulders, holding him down, under water, for some odd reason, he still felt reassured by that._

_Turning onto his back and staring up at the ceiling, he took a long, deep breath, and shut his eyes._

_For now, for once, his problems could wait until tomorrow._

* * *

It didn't work out that way, of course. Alex woke at a little past five, at first light, sweating and choking on a scream. He still felt cold, even under the blankets and still in his combat gear, and he'd dreamt of drowning.

He forced himself to sit up, swing his legs out of bed, and pull on his boots, all as quietly as possible. He was stiff and sore, his body aching and protesting, but since Eagle's visit last night, no one had come looking for him – either their session had been over, or they hadn't bothered to look for him when he'd disappeared, and it was getting light now. Chances were, the session was over because they had other ways to spend time today. He was probably safe to head back to the infirmary now. His bed might have dried in the meantime – perhaps he could get a little more sleep.

Alex stole out of the dormitory into the brisk March morning, still cold from the night. The sun wasn't even up yet – the night was only just beginning to grey into morning, but as he shut the door, someone else pulled it open.

"Alex?" Tom mumbled in a half-whisper, pulling the door shut behind him, shivering in the chilly morning, curling his toes against the cold wood of the decking. "What're you doing here?"

Alex looked at him for a minute, and shook his head. "Training exercise," he extemporised – there was no way he was telling Tom that he'd spent the night learning to withstand torture. He couldn't even tell _Tom_ that.

He _especially_ couldn't tell Tom that.

"Kay," Tom muttered. "You're – you're OK, though?"

Alex thought for a second then nodded. "Just fine," he said, but his cheeks hurt when he smiled. "I'll see you later, OK?"

"We're getting out of here tomorrow," Tom said and Alex nodded, wondering where he was going with this. "Are you coming with us?"

"Should have thought so," Alex said, though he wasn't sure. "I'll let you know. I've gotta go, Tom."

"I'll come up and see you," Tom said softly, but Alex was already moving off, not keen to stand around in the cold for much longer. It felt like the chill had settled into his bones sometime last night, and all he really wanted now was somewhere warm to hide for a little bit.

* * *

Tom watched his friend go, torn between confusion and dismay. The Alex he'd just seen wasn't like anyone he'd met before. He'd seen Alex lost, angry, disappointed, unhappy, even downright depressed just a couple of days ago, but the boy he'd just seen was just – stone. He looked like one of the soldiers teaching them: stern-faced and unapproachable.

He wondered, not for the first time, how he could ever have been jealous of his friend, when the life Alex led with MI6 always on his back clearly took such a toll on him. And then he wondered whether maybe this was just the first time he'd got to see it.

He wondered whether Alex always felt like that.

Turning back into their barracks with a renewed sense of purpose, Tom vowed that at the very least, Alex wasn't going to have to be alone for _this_.

* * *

Alex slipped back into the infirmary before the nurse on duty took up their station at the front of the building, and warily made his way back to his room. He was pretty sure his RTI training was over, but he didn't want to be taken unawares if someone was lying in wait for him in his room.

It was empty, though, and he dithered for a moment. He wanted to sleep, more than anything, somewhere warm – the infirmary was reassuringly well-heated – but his pyjamas were still in a damp bundle on the floor, and he didn't want to just clamber into bed in his clothes. He knew from experience now that that was in no way comfortable.

Eventually, he came to a compromise, stripping off his standard issue combat gear, leaving himself in his boxers and T-shirt. Cold again now, he climbed into bed and huddled under the covers, too cold and tense to consider sleep for a little while. As he warmed up, slowly, the tension began to seep out of him. He hoped he'd get until nine again – Manning had banned the units from his room until "decent hours", so there was a hope of it – and he was so tired, and so fed up of being on edge all the time. He hated the way his time here seemed to bring out all his weaknesses, pulling them out into the light in a way he hadn't had to deal with since – well, since Ian died. Everything felt like a weak point now, and he wondered dimly how they ever expected him to put up a strong enough front to help his classmates when all of their training seemed to do nothing but beat him down.

But they _were_ helping him, he thought fairly. Or they were trying, at least – and their lessons were useful. When he got over himself, he was pretty sure even the RTI training would prove to have been useful – if nothing else, he proved to himself that he had the sheer bloody-mindedness to withstand torture with nothing more to get him through it than the determination not to say anything. He hadn't even had the consolation of knowing that if he said anything, his classmates would be in actual danger – here, he would just have failed his training. But he'd managed it anyway. Surely he could be proud of that?

But before he could wonder any further, between one thought and the next, he slipped into sleep.

* * *

He woke suddenly, sitting bolt upright. _Again_, someone was in his room – but this someone was glancing at his chart – more habit than necessity, since it was no longer updated – and smiling cheerfully at him.

"Good morning, Alex, how are you- what on _earth_ is that?!"

Alex glanced at what had caught Manning's attention and saw the bruises on his arms, now blue and sore. "Oh." He paused, thinking for a bare second, then smiled at Manning ruefully. "I fell out of bed," he said easily, a little embarrassedly. "Hit the bedside table."

Manning gave him a long, steady look. "Really," he said flatly, and Alex nodded, wanting to pull the cover up and not have to get out of bed, or deal with anything, for at least a good few days.

But that was childish, and he couldn't afford it.

Manning looked deeply sceptical, but nodded slowly. "Well, if you say so," he said, and forced a smile. Alex knew when he wasn't being believed, and almost wished Manning would push him on it, but squashed that urge. He wasn't even sure why he'd lied – surely Manning was at least familiar with RTI training? – but he didn't want to have to deal with it just at the moment, and he'd be leaving tomorrow, and he just hoped he could get by without having to answer any questions until then. Because Manning would either be horrified and indignant, which Alex didn't feel equipped to handle right now, or he'd be OK with it, and Alex wasn't sure he could deal with that, either. If he was really lucky, he might not have to deal with Manning finding out before he left – which would mean never having to deal with it at all.

But luck only worked for Alex in life-and-death situations, so he doubted it.

And he was right: "I'm just confused – how did you manage to hit _both_ your arms on the way down?" Manning asked casually, slotting the chart back onto the end of the bed.

Alex flushed, but he wasn't silly enough to try and pretend he didn't know what Manning meant. "I rolled," he said shortly, and Manning raised an eyebrow.

"Alex, I can find out what I need elsewhere," he said warningly.

"Then why don't you?" Alex said rather bitterly. Realistically, he did know he couldn't hide it – but was it so much to ask not to have to _tell_ it?

Manning gave him a long look. "Alright," he said, gentling his tone a little. "Are you hungry? Or do you want to sleep some more? You look – tired."

Alex thought longingly of going to sleep, but it was _Thursday_, and they had two days to get him up to speed on everything he needed to know. And he couldn't get soft – he wouldn't have even this much time to recover in the real world, no one knew that better than Alex. "Breakfast would be great," he said warily, and Manning nodded.

"OK then. I'll have someone bring you something-"

"I can fetch it," Alex offered uncomfortably, but Manning shook his head.

"I want to be relatively sure I know where you are," he said smiling. Alex shrugged awkwardly, still uncomfortable with and unused to anything which looked like intelligent sympathy, and Manning gave him a long look before he left.

* * *

Manning skewered Wolf with a look before he said anything at all. Wolf shifted uncomfortably, and Manning frowned at him, which told them exactly what he was angling for.

"Well?" He said simply, and Eagle stepped forward.

"RTI training," he said, caught between bravado and embarrassment.

Manning threw his hands up. "Of course, how silly of me," he said, his sarcasm biting, making even Wolf twitch a little. "_Naturally_, training a fourteen year old to withstand interrogation. What other genius ideas have you had?"

"He needed to know, Doc. We were-"

"If the next words out of your mouth are 'trying to protect him', Lieutenant, I will make sure you are next up for an _extremely painful_ round of inoculations," Manning threatened, pointing a warning finger at him.

"We can't _protect him_," Wolf said, almost spat. "We can't do a damn thing to help him once he leaves this camp, Doctor, and believe it or not, we were trying to _help_. I don't agree with it, I don't like it, and I didn't enjoy having to send the poor bastard off to have his head fucked with by four fully trained soldiers, but believe me when I tell you that it's _nothing_ to what he might end up facing when he leaves here."

Manning gave him a long, steady look. "Fine," he said finally. "I understand. But you realise that the extent of the physical and mental damage done to him might actually be detrimental in the long run, I hope?"

Snake stepped forwards. "There were only so many limits we could put on it," he said quietly. "But we _all_ tried to make sure it was as carefully choreographed as possible. The unit who carried it out knew exactly how far they could go and what they were doing. You can think that we're being cruel or sadistic, but we're not stupid with it, we knew how far to press."

"I sincerely hope so," Manning said, but Snake was almost sure there was a softening in the doctor's manner towards them.

"So do I," he said, trying to pack as much sincerity into his voice as possible. It occurred to him that they'd been working round the doc when they should probably have been working with him – their priorities might be different when it came to Cub, but they had the same basic aim: keeping him alive and whole. "We want to help him," he added, when Manning looked doubtful, "but we can't help him the way you would; we've got to make sure he's ready for whatever's coming next, even when it looks like we're just being bastards."

Manning just sighed. "I understand that," he said. "But I don't know that this was so well thought through. Maybe if you lot had got yourselves together in the first week, and you'd done this then, when Alex could have been helped through the after-effects – maybe then I wouldn't have such a problem with it." Privately, Snake doubted that, but he shrugged that thought off. He rather thought the doctor was a little too close to Cub to ever let the kid be put in danger, and he didn't examine too closely why that thought pleased rather than worried him. "But he leaves tomorrow, gentlemen. If this has put him in a poor mental state, then there's frankly bugger all we can do to improve matters for him before he leaves."

"Well, we'd better trust to Cub's mental resilience, then," Wolf said, and Eagle shifted beside him. The doctor, sharp-eyed, caught the movement and nodded.

"Alex is having breakfast right now," he said, "but he'll want to continue his training. He's not dressed either, so you might want to wait out here for a bit. For the moment – you," he pointed at Eagle. "I want a word."

* * *

Eagle followed the doctor into his office and stood awkwardly at attention in front of the man's desk.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, relax before you strain something," the doctor said tiredly. "I'm not your CO."

"And frankly, sir, I'm glad of that," Eagle said, relaxing fractionally. He had absolutely no idea where doctors came in the chain of command, but he had a shrewd idea that this one was not to be crossed. "What did you want me for?"

"You're closest to Alex, am I right?" Manning said, meeting Eagle's eye squarely.

Eagle shifted uncomfortably; within the units, everyone deferred to his opinion on the kid, but no one had ever put it quite so bluntly. "I suppose so," he hedged. "He's a good kid. I've probably spent the most time around him. Sir."

Manning smiled faintly. "Then I want to know what your plans are when he leaves."

Eagle frowned. "Plans, sir?"

"Plans," the doctor agreed. "You can't expect me to believe that you're just going to let him walk out of here into god-knows-what without keeping tabs – not very SAS, is it?"

Eagle swallowed. "Well," he started slowly, "Colonel Roslyn told us to keep in touch with him, but letters are a bit slow. We don't know his phone number and we don't know if he has email – and even if he did, we don't exactly have Wi-Fi here."

"Well, _you_ don't," Manning agreed absently, heading over to a filing cabinet, and yanking open the second drawer. "I might be able to help with the phones, though." After a minute or two of searching, he pulled out a thin manila folder and opened it. "Cub's folder," he explained, after a brief pause to hunt for a pen and a piece of scrap paper. "Next to useless, of course – full of fake illnesses and blurry descriptions of his injuries, but he had to write down an emergency contact number when he was first brought here. London area code, clearly a landline – what fourteen year old, even Alex, wouldn't automatically write down his home number?"

Eagle glanced at the folder, where Cub's contact information had been filled out in what was clearly, even upside down, neat, precise handwriting – even Cub's writing was older than it should be. Eagle fostered no feelings of kindness towards Cub's mysterious guardian, and instantly assumed that Cub had grown up in a household where mistakes were not tolerated lightly – not even in the kid's writing.

"Here," Manning said, and handed Eagle a slip of paper, "his home number. I want you to ring once a week, minimum – you can use the phone in my office if needs-be."

"That your prescription, doc?" Eagle said, taking the slip and risking a smile.

Manning smiled back, just a little. "It is, and there will be consequences if you shirk it," he told him, and Eagle was mostly sure he was joking. "Now get out of here. I'll check on Alex for you."

* * *

Richard Manning would never have described himself as a bleeding heart – medical training had dulled any tendencies he might have had towards it, and eleven years as a military doctor had all but killed them off. His patients responded to a firm hand and a sense of authority much better than tea and sympathy.

But Alex required sympathy and kindness in a way even his own daughters didn't. Lizzie and Sally had never known – and would never know, if Richard had anything to say about it – anything other than love and compassion; Alex, by contrast, was starved for them. He was horrifyingly wary of kindness, not, Richard had come to realise, because Alex didn't trust him, but because he was worried about MI6 hitting out against anyone who helped him – clearly he'd learnt that no one who wanted to help was going to hang around.

Frankly, it made Richard want to do something unpleasant with scalpels to whoever had taught Alex that; it said nothing good about Alex's life so far, but then, _nothing_ Richard had learnt about Alex's life so far said anything good about it.

Keeping Alex calm around him and all his good intentions took a careful balancing act. Alex, Richard had learnt, drew back sharply whenever it looked as though someone was pressing too hard into the areas that Alex had designated as 'off-limits', particularly if it was someone he liked. On some level, it worried Richard that after a bare week, he was one of the people Alex liked enough to protect, but since he was grateful for it as well, he didn't press it. Alex either had excellent instincts – and most signs pointed to that – or he was more damaged than Richard had previously thought, clinging to the first kind adult who offered even a suggestion of shelter. Of course, while children were resilient, most children weren't repeatedly, deliberately exposed to trauma, and if Richard was any judge, the damage to Alex's psyche was already fairly extensive – but since Richard had no intention of damaging him any further, he was content to accept Alex's clear acceptance of him with a smile and more affection than even he, Richard, had expected.

Because, really, 'starved for positive attention' barely even began to cover it – Richard found it oddly difficult not to treat Alex with the same gentle affection with which he treated his own daughters, so he hadn't squashed the urge. It wasn't one he'd ever felt in relation to any children other than his own before, but Alex really seemed to _need _it. He might think he was independent and adult, but all of his interactions with Richard showed a deep-seated need to be treated with care – he'd soaked up what little consideration and affection Richard had been able to give him like he couldn't quite believe it was on offer. Richard only wished he was in a position to offer him more, but the poor kid would be leaving tomorrow, and God only knew what he'd be facing; though Richard desperately wanted to help, he had a realistic view of what he could actually effect when MI6 were his opponents.

He just wished he had some sort of answer for Alex, a permanent solution that would leave him protected and loved the way he both clearly needed and richly deserved. Hopefully, at least, Gilda would be able to help a little when she came up to see him tonight. Richard didn't fool himself that his wife would be able to work miracles, and nor did he believe that Alex would open up completely – the boy was wary of taking help on every possible level, and more than skilled enough to manoeuvre round all kinds of emotional blackmail, clearly aware that Richard would never press it too far for fear of damaging him further. But even just knowing the help was on offer and freely given might be enough to heal over some of the wounds done to him.

After all, Alex would certainly find support and a casual, respect-orientated affection from the soldiers in the camp, but that wasn't what a damaged fourteen year old really needed. There just seemed to be no one who could offer him what he _did_ need: a safe space and time to heal, with plenty of love and care on offer. A campful of soldiers could hardly offer him that.

Still. Richard shut his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. He'd probably given Alex enough time to finish eating, and he couldn't stall any longer – however much they all hated it, however much Richard was horrified at what the boy was being put through in the name of training, Alex did have to learn this nonsense. It made Richard feel sick to think of what they were asking this one child to do, and what he was facing, but he knew academically that he'd be hindering the kid more than helping him if he got in the way. And Hippocratic Oath aside, sometimes, the needs of the many did outweigh the needs of the one – that was certainly how Alex saw it. Perhaps, in the future, they'd be able to actually _help_ him.

He could at least be a safe space for the kid in the short term.

"Your unit's here," he said, with as cheerful a smile as possible as he entered Alex's room. "But you're going to need another medical check-up before I clear you for duty." As if any child should ever be 'cleared for duty'.

Alex looked up. He was dressed, an empty plate off to one side, and his expression was apparently open, set in a look of easy calm, though his eyes were shadowed. "Oh?" he said, voice light and casual. "It's really just my arms, you know. They're stiff, but it will wear off."

"There are bruises on your face," Richard pointed out.

Alex shrugged, maintaining the same disinterested look. "Bruises," he said easily. "They'll heal. They won't get in the way." And there was a telling statement if Richard had ever heard one. Alex looked battered – his face was painted with fading bruises, and though his arms were hidden, Richard could remember how black and painful those bruises had been. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that that kind of focus and the easy front Alex could put out were a glimpse of Alex-the-spy rather than Alex-the-child, and it wasn't a comfortable thing to know.

"They may not incapacitate you," Richard agreed, wondering how far he could give without allowing Alex to believe that he could get away without medical treatment, "but that doesn't mean you should ignore them."

Alex's face was, for a second, completely impassive – which was standard operating procedure for Alex in decision-making mode, not wishing to give anything away for fear of giving ground – and for the span of that second, Richard was genuinely unsure as to which way Alex was going to go. Finally, he shrugged and unzipped his jacket top. "Sure," he said, and Richard had to pause against his own surprise at Alex's sudden capitulation. He trusted implicitly that Alex was a good person and a good kid, but he was frighteningly clever and had clearly been trained to pick his battles cleverly. Richard didn't want to get out-manoeuvred by Alex when the stakes were so high.

After half a second, though, he decided to take it at face value and push a little further – that would at least get him a little more knowledge of what was going on in Alex's head. "T-shirt off, please," he added, deliberately absent.

Alex didn't frown, but he did pause briefly in folding up his jacket. "Why?" he asked casually. "You said you wanted to see my arms."

"Are they your only injuries?" Richard asked kindly.

"They're the only serious ones," Alex said without skipping a beat.

"Are you a doctor?" Richard countered.

Alex paused, sighed, and crossed his arms over his chest; Richard couldn't help glancing at the dark blue-black bruises ringing his arms. "I don't think you're asking for medical reasons," Alex said, and Richard had to suppress a guilty start, because he wasn't, not entirely. He wanted to help Alex, but he also felt oddly responsible for the boy – he wanted to know what had been done to him so he could... he wasn't even sure he knew. He couldn't stop it happening again; he couldn't cure bruises. But he icould/i help, in some small way, he was sure.

"Alex-"

"I don't think this is to help me," Alex said quietly, every word delicately sharp. "You know I've got a whole collection of bruises and scrapes, what can you do about it? You don't need to see them. It feels like – prurient interest. I'm not a freak show."

It was a talented performance, Richard had to give him that. And if he'd been less involved with the boy, if he'd been less invested in him, maybe he'd have backed off, hurt and offended. But he wasn't new to his profession and he wasn't new to Alex either. It was a brilliantly calculated attempt, but Alex had, for once, misjudged his audience; Richard had a sneaking suspicion that it was a rare misstep from a boy who was all too good at manipulating people into seeing exactly what they were supposed to see.

"I don't think you are," he said, smiling easily, then gritted his teeth a little; he'd never hated himself more but he did it anyway. "You'll need to be on the top of your game to do your job, and I can help. There are stretches you can do to loosen the muscles, including in your abdomen, and I want to check whether there's been any internal damage done – I _do_ know that your body's taken a hell of a beating over the last couple of days, I'm not trying to hide that. And there's the issue of cracked bones, too. I could go on, Alex. I'm serious here."

Alex eyed him for a long minute, then, finally: "fine," he said, and it should have sounded archetypally teenage and sulky, but it came out flat and resigned. If Richard _had_ been asking for prurient reasons, that would have been enough to make him back off.

Since he wasn't, he waited while Alex stripped his shirt off – both too developed in his musculature, and too thin for a young teenager, Richard noticed absently, but it was lost in the moment as he gritted his teeth against his own surprisingly visceral reaction. Alex was _battered_, there was just no other word for it, dark bruises spilling down over his chest and onto his stomach, one particularly new one just under his ribs, layered half over a slightly older one, fading into sickly pale-purple-yellow.

"Well, that's a fine mess, isn't it?" he said, with as much lightness as he could manage, moving forward slowly with one hand outstretched so Alex would know his intentions. "Let me just see if there's any rigidity to the abdomen, hmm? That's as a good a sign as any of internal bleeding."

"Nothing hit me hard enough to cause internal bleeding," Alex said, showing (in Richard's opinion) a distasteful knowledge of the subject.

"You thought that about your head injury," Richard pointed out, gently pressing on an unbruised bit of skin, which gave under his touch as it should. He should probably have tested a bruise, but found he couldn't bring himself to, when it would hurt Alex. The poor boy had been hurt enough in his stay here.

"I'm not bleeding internally," Alex insisted, which was, Richard could say now, perfectly true. That didn't mean Alex shouldn't have medical attention all the same.

"No, you're not," he agreed. "But doctoring isn't actually reserved for life-threatening injuries only. Speaking of life-threatening, though, how's your head? Have you noticed a headache, unusual thirst, nausea...?"

"Nothing," Alex said shortly. "I had a headache, I drank some water and got some sleep, it went away."

Richard checked the back of his head, wishing he could order another CAT scan, but it wasn't likely he'd get it, and x-rays would have to wait until the rest of the contingent of staff were in for the day. Still, there was no damage to the back of Alex's head, and the scar on his forehead really did seem to be nothing more than a shallow cut – it would have bled profusely, but it probably wouldn't have done anything too bad. "How did you get this, then?" he asked, just to make sure.

"I ran," Alex said, the hint of a snap to his words. "And got tackled onto a stone."

_Well, isn't that just perfect_, Richard thought to himself. _By all means, inflict head trauma on top of head trauma. _"Excellent," he said, lacing his tone liberally with sarcasm. "Well, before you leave, I'll have it x-rayed, just to make sure nothing's been damaged again. Probably this evening, when you're done with your, ah, classes, though it would be better done before..." Alex opened his mouth, clearly about to protest, and Richard forestalled him. "Yes, I know you want to get on with things, but compromising your _health_ isn't going to help, Alex." He sighed, and moved on, checking Alex's pupil reactions quickly – everything _seemed_ to be just as it should. "Right, well, until the x-rays, I'll give you a provisionally clean bill of health, for one day only. In the meantime, for ongoing purposes, you're going to find a fair amount of stiffness settling into your muscles when you let yourself feel those bruises, so I'm going to show you some basic physio stretches to stave that off, OK? I want you to do them every morning and every night, with a brief warm up, to keep you from losing any flexibility or muscle tone. Those bruises are going to set deep."

Alex obediently followed him through the simple stretching routine, clearly familiar with all of them, which Richard allowed himself to be silently disturbed by.

"No one's ever cared this much about _bruises_," Alex said, as Richard let his hands drop from the final stretch, and Richard took a moment to himself before answering.

"Well, maybe they should have," he said, glad that he'd had that moment to collect himself, because otherwise it would have come out sharp. "And those bruises are deep down into the muscle, particularly on your arms." He paused, took a deep breath and began slowly, "I know you think the ends justified the means, Alex, and you probably don't know why I'm making such a fuss when you've probably been through worse. But I'd remind you I wasn't around before, and I didn't see any of that – which doesn't mean, incidentally, that I'm making a lot of fuss about nothing. Whether it's normal for you or not, you've been through something terrible – not just out in the field, but here at this camp, too, and in many ways, I know you think I'm not doing you any favours by calling attention to it. But look at it from my perspective: I don't think I'd be doing you any favours by pretending it's alright."

Alex stared at him for a long moment before sighing. "I _don't_ think it's alright," he said. "You know I don't, you know I never have. But it's – knowing it's not alright doesn't mean I can stop, I've _told_ you that."

"Not in so many words," Richard murmured. "You can't stop, fine, I understand that-"

"Do you?" Alex asked quietly.

"Believe it or not, yes, I do," Richard said, giving Alex a long look. "I wish things were different, but I can accept that they're not. But I'm not going to fall into the category of 'adults who couldn't do anything so didn't even try'. I'd be failing myself and you if I did that."

"I appreciate it," Alex said, suddenly far older than his years and, if Richard was any judge, lying through his teeth.

"I hope one day you really will," he said, instead of calling him on it. "Right, are you ready to let your hell-hound unit in here?"

* * *

Alex watched Manning thoughtfully as he left to call K-Unit it. Something was clearly really eating at the man, and it galled Alex a little not to be able to get a real handle on what it was. It was something like concern, something like care, but there was no doubt a little professional pride mixed up in with it – it didn't entirely make sense to Alex, but it was, for once, a mystery he wasn't willing to expend energy on getting to grips with. It wasn't a danger – for the moment, he could safely ignore it.

He set his teeth as K-Unit came into his room, and squared his shoulders. He had other things to get to grips with, and they were going to take his full attention.

But the morning didn't start as he'd expected.

K-Unit weren't showing any of the normal professional front he'd come to expect from them – it masked a camaraderie and even a fondness, he knew that, but they didn't have time for that, so professionalism was normally the order of the day. _Today_, however, the day when they could least afford it, they seemed to have decided to throw the plans to the wind. Even Wolf looked troubled.

"You alright, Cub?" he asked gruffly, eyes lingering on Alex's scabbed forehead and bruised cheek.

Alex frowned. If _he'd_ been prepared to let it pass – and he had been, if only in the interests of getting it out of his head and getting on with things – he didn't see why _they_ couldn't. "Fine," he said shortly. "What's today, then?"

"Seriously, Cub," Eagle said, stepping forwards, backed up by Snake, "are you good to go? If you need any more time-"

"We don't _have_ any more time," Alex said impatiently. "Come on, let's get to it."

Snake paused, took a deep breath, and tried a soothing tone. "We can take a little time if you need some to get your head together," he began, and Alex cut him off with a hefty sigh.

"Look, I appreciate the thought, OK?" And he did, but that didn't mean they had time for it. "But I made my peace with it."

"You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," Alex snapped. "Let's just get on with it, shall we?"

"Touchy, touchy," Fox said, but with a grin to show he was joking. Alex wasn't much in the mood for it – he still felt jumpy and on-edge – but he appreciated that Fox was trying to lighten the mood and move them on, so he managed a smile.

Eagle didn't seem to find it so funny, but Wolf trod visibly and heavily on his foot when he went to protest, so all that came out of his mouth when he opened it was a pained grunt.

"Right then," Wolf said. "We're with you on the range this afternoon – moving targets, this time, as much as our tech will allow for it, which isn't much. With any luck, you'll find it piss-easy, so we'll load you up with another paint gun and try you on real moving targets when that's done."

"And for the morning?" Alex asked, pulling his boots on and beginning to lace them up.

"B-Unit for theory of urban camouflage."

"Which won't be all that useful to you, in some ways," Fox said thoughtfully. "For one, this group is almost certainly gunning for you specifically, which means they'll have their eyes on you from the start – and for another, when they attack, you probably won't be able to use traditional camouflage."

"Alright then, stealth in an urban environment," Wolf said snippily. "And use of your surroundings to your advantage. Cobra said he'd give you some tips on traditional close-combat fighting, which might come in useful if for whatever reason you can't get your hands on a gun."

"Great," Alex said slowly. "Where are we meeting them, then?"

"Your class is still in the mess hall, so nowhere for the moment," Eagle said, appropriating one of the many chairs left in Alex's room from his theory sessions, and sitting down, legs crossed at the ankle, apparently entirely at-ease. "F-Unit's stopping over during their lunch break, by the way, for a _controlled_ session on fighting off a group. An actual training session, not a free-for-all."

It didn't escape Alex's notice that that was a unit he hadn't had for group training before, and he appreciated the thought. "Thanks," he said, knowing they'd get it.

* * *

The whole day was hard – hard in a way Alex hadn't really expected. For the first time, he was having to half-persuade the units he worked with to teach him _properly_, and B-Unit had never precisely been a cake-walk for him. Hawk hung back, awkward, while Cobra and Jackal maintained a fierce professional distance and Bear tried for an easy camaraderie that refused to materialise completely while his unit behaved so awkwardly.

Finally, Alex snapped. "Alright, what is it?" he said, and Fox and Snake, leaning against the wall of the shed, apparently in easy conversation, straightened a little at his tone.

Jackal looked at him silently for a long moment. "What's what?" he asked, already turning back to their poor mock-up of a city street; Alex had spent fifteen minutes crouching behind a pile of empty ammunition crates, pretending it was a Volkswagen.

"You lot. You're like cats on hot bricks around me," he said sharply. Glancing at Cobra, he frowned. "You were fine yesterday. What's changed today?"

Bear glanced between the other members of his unit, and sighed, clearly deciding to take one for the team. "They think that you doing RTI is going to mess with my head," he said lightly. "Which is bullshit."

Hawk, in the background, was rigidly silent; Cobra shrugged. "Can't blame us for thinking it," he said, and Bear frowned.

"No," he agreed, deceptively easy. "But I can blame you for letting it get in the way of _our jobs_. That hasn't worked out so well for us in the last couple of weeks, has it?"

Jackal's expression was impassive, but the set of his mouth was angry. "We're not doing this here," he said, every word sharp. "Cub, this is a lesson, not a therapy session-"

"_I_ know that," Alex pointed out. "I'm just wondering if _you_ lot do. I don't know whether you think it's therapy for me, or for Bear, and I don't know why you'd think giving us bullshit tasks is going to help, but knock it off, alright?"

"There's the mouthy teenager we were expecting," Cobra murmured, apparently distantly amused by the entire thing – if Alex had to guess, distancing himself was probably as much Cobra's way of coping as anger was Hawk's.

He didn't dwell on the thought, though it was nice to have a little insight. "I don't care if I live down to every single one of your expectations, so long as you teach me what I need," he said honestly. "And that's not happening right now."

Jackal visibly bit back a retort, and took a deep breath. "Well then," he said, clearly making an effort to sound as non-confrontational as possible. "What is it you think you need?"

Alex took a moment to consider it – having made a fuss, now was not the time to come out with a poorly thought-out answer. "It's not me I'm worried about," he said, and didn't miss the way Snake shifted uncomfortably. "Either I get killed or I don't, and I have the skills and the sheer bloody luck to deal with the situation." Jackal's eyebrows were inching up slightly, though whether at his perceived arrogance or his calm, Alex didn't know. "But I've also got to deal with twenty-odd scared kids – getting them to safety, keeping them calm, all without them knowing what I can really do."

"Well, we can't help you keep them in the dark," Bear said, coming to stand beside him, his eyes thoughtful. "But there are techniques you could use to get the other kids away – basic misdirection, shoving them behind things. Where are they most likely to come at you?"

Alex shrugged. "On the sports fields, the main street between the science labs and the rest of the school, the playground – playground's worst, because there'll be a lot more than just us around, and we won't all be together."

"Right, this is going to have to be the playground, then," Bear said, a slight hitch over 'playground' which let Alex know he felt as ridiculous saying it as Alex himself did. "Snake, Fox, are your unit free at the moment?"

"Should be," Fox said, pushing himself up off the wall. "You want me to grab 'em?"

"Please," Bear told him, glancing at Jackal, who nodded once. "Tell them to round up anyone who's free, and be prepared to act like scared schoolchildren."

"Oh, Eagle is going to enjoy this far too much," Snake said, a thread of amusement running through his tone. "Who're the attackers?"

"That'll be us," Jackal said. "Cub, on me. We're going to talk tactics."

* * *

It was, as Alex had rather gleefully supposed it would be, a complete mess. The SAS units Fox had dragged into this – K and D, as well as H- and C-Units, who Alex didn't know – were absolutely terrible at pretending to be incompetent, which made a vindictive part of Alex rather happy; seeing how they liked having to pretend for a change. Once they got into the swing of it, though, they were frighteningly good – Eagle, in particular, adopted an expression of terrified bewilderment and froze completely, only to be tackled to the ground by Wolf, who was taking the entire thing too seriously.

Alex learnt the valuable technique of shepherding people the way he wanted them to go by running at them full-tilt yelling "go, go, go!" and Wolf slapped him on the back when they were safely installed behind the pile of crates, which was now – it had been decided – the entrance to the main school building.

"Not bad, Cub!" he shouted, over the din; D-Unit (Wasp in particular) had got into the spirit of the thing, and were making 'pew-pew' noises whenever B-Unit (still grim-faced and focused) pointed their dead weapons at anyone.

Finally, two members of H-Unit, who'd been co-opted into the role of law-enforcement, came sweeping in, and declared the war-game over.

"Well then," Jackal said, pulling Alex up from behind the crates. "Was that more useful?"

Alex thought about it – thought about saying that what he'd learnt was it was only ever, at best, going to be a waiting game for their attackers to win; he'd taken out Cobra and Bear, but Hawk and Jackal had still been in the game when it ended, even when Alex had a gun in his hands, and had been taking potshots at them from a covered position, and he knew now, deep in his bones, that unless re-enforcement came quickly, they would lose. Then he weighed up the feeling of lightness and camaraderie he'd had throughout the entire cracked-out 'demonstration'; the sheer pleasure that came from members of the SAS, soldiers he hadn't even met before, clapping him on the shoulder when he got them to safety, sending him back out with a quick word of encouragement or advice, and nodded. Somehow, over the last few days, the knowledge that he was likely to lose was overshadowed by a few precious minutes of belonging.

"Yeah," he said, and the collected soldiers grinned, though Eagle's eyes were wary. "Yeah, it was."

* * *

They broke for lunch, still talking it over – Lynx from H-Unit was particularly keen to talk over Alex's more hands-on close combat style, which Alex freely admitted was a combination of karate, judo and adrenaline – and F-Unit were met with a lively re-telling of the story when they came to pick Alex up for a close-combat session.

The combat session went well – surprisingly well – and Alex felt oddly invigorated when it was over. He felt like he was making progress, putting his theoretical and earlier lessons into practice, as he disarmed Leopard and got the jump on Rat, actually managing to win without turning to the darker, less self-aware side of his working life for inspiration.

The afternoon class, target practice, was swiftly moved out of the range by the range sergeant, who quickly declared Alex to be 'competent enough' and sent him on his way with paint guns and a disgruntled K-Unit.

"I can't believe," Eagle said, swapping his combat jacket for a spare and strapping a vest over the top, "that we're signing ourselves up for this again."

"Balls still not recovered from last time?" Fox asked, all innocence, and Eagle chucked his jacket at him in retribution. "Pass us a helmet, Snake."

Snake handed one over, glancing back at Alex, who was deep in conversation with Wolf. "We're to have the guns to begin with, right?" he asked, raising his voice so Wolf could hear them.

"Yes," Wolf said, joining them with Alex close on his heels. "That's the plan, once we've established Cub's decent with moving targets. Eagle, you're up."

"What?! No, not fair-"

"I didn't ask if it was fair, I told you to do it," Wolf told him dourly. "You're the target for prone shooting; Fox, you're up for standing."

Fox accepted this with equanimity, already examining one of the paint guns with interest. "Pity we don't have any paint handguns," he said absently. "That's what you're most likely to get your hands on to start with."

Alex shrugged easily. "I'll take what I can get," he said, meaning it. "Hand it over." He checked the gun as thoroughly as he could without actually dismantling it, testing its weight again, even though it was the same model he'd used before in the exercise with his class. He fired a testing shot at a tree a few metres away, missed, and fired again, hitting it dead on. "Alright then," he said, glancing back at his waiting unit. "Let's do it."

D-Unit showed up halfway through and were roped into it; by the time Alex was consistently hitting them, a near-free-for-all had ensued, and the real difficulty was picking out individuals. Wolf had informed him that D-Unit were going to stand in for his classmates, and K-Unit would be their attackers – which had led to Eagle flinging himself into the fight with gay abandon. He'd had Wasp in a headlock before Alex took him out with a shot to the shoulder; Fox and Viper had been grappling with each other over to one edge of their designated killing zone, and Snake had sneaked up on Adder and tackled him to the ground. The point, Alex knew, was to make it as hard as possible for him to separate foe from friendly, though D-Unit spiced things up by fighting back with everything they had, which his classmates wouldn't be able to do.

Wolf was the last to go down; he'd managed to get the jump on Lemur and had him in an armlock, using him as a human shield. Alex had had to do some creative re-positioning to get himself an opening, and when he did, Wolf shoved Lemur away in disgust.

"Nicely done," he said, feigning a disgruntlement he clearly didn't really feel, judging by the way he clapped Alex on the shoulder, and the look in his eyes when Eagle pulled Alex in for a rough half-hug.

"Nice bit of shooting," he approved, and Wasp backed him up, ruffling his hair and grinning when Alex jerked away.

"No, seriously, well done," he agreed. "You're going to have to watch yourself, though, you take a while to line up your shots, which is good, but-"

"But if I were here for a week longer, you'd train that out of me," Alex said, still breathing rather heavily from his last stand-off with Wolf – there'd been a fair amount of running and hiding involved.

"That's about the size of it," Viper told him, patting him on the back in passing, gesturing at the rest of his unit to follow him back up to the main camp. "But you're doing good, Cub. You should look into joining up one of these days, you'd do well."

Alex almost grinned at that, though he didn't actually think his own, quite specific skillset would tally all that well with traditional military. The more he thought about it, the more he agreed that he _was_ suited to espionage – just not at the age of fourteen. If things got reshuffled enough, he'd consider MI6 as a job – but he'd make sure he had them over a barrel first.

Finally, he was left with K-Unit, with the sun rapidly disappearing behind the trees, taking what little warmth there had been in the air with it. Eagle stamped his feet to keep the circulation going, and Snake was blowing into his cupped hands while Wolf, Fox and Alex gathered up the guns and cleared up all signs that they'd been there. Eagle surprised Alex by hefting the guns Alex had picked up onto his own shoulders and grinning down at him.

"You still look like shit, kid," he said, kindly enough. "And if you keel over your watchdog doctor will do something vile and inventive to all of us."

"Your class should be out of the mess hall by now," Wolf said gruffly, starting the trek back up to the main camp. "You're probably safe to come with us."

"Is that wise?" Snake asked quietly, bringing up the rear apparently automatically. "Alex can get something to eat at the infirmary-"

"And be bored out of his mind," Fox put in, glancing at Alex and offering him a quizzical look.

"We could always eat with him in the infirmary," Eagle offered. "Teach you how to cheat at poker."

"No you bloody couldn't," Wolf snapped, and Eagle frowned.

"We'll clean up after ourselves, no one'll care for one night, Wolf-"

"No," Wolf said, with infinite patience. "I meant, you couldn't teach him how to cheat at poker: you're terrible."

Fox let out a crack of laughter. "He's got you there," he grinned at Eagle. "You're really terrible, mate. Now, Snake, Snake could teach you a thing or two, kid."

"My uncle used to teach me," Alex offered, liking the increased ease he was seeing in K-Unit now they'd worked out precisely how to deal with him.

Snake gave him a long, assessing look in the growing dusk. "This I have to see. Poker tournament?"

"Alright," Wolf agreed, "but Eagle's banned."

* * *

Manning rolled his eyes at all of them when they trouped back into the infirmary, but didn't object when Alex told him what they were doing.

"You'll need to be out by six-thirty," he said firmly. "Alex has an appointment. Till then – just try and keep it down, would you please? I've got three cases of food poisoning down the hall."

"So few?" Eagle muttered, and flushed as Manning raised an eyebrow.

"Quite," he agreed dryly, and left them to it.

"There's a man with eyebrows that could flay you alive," Eagle told Alex, leaning back, having requisitioned Alex's bed without so much as a by-your-leave. Alex had let him have it, and had nabbed the only comfortable chair in the room, leaving the rest of their unit to perch on the uncomfortable hard-back plastic ones that were still stacked in one corner from a few days earlier, when everyone had been crowded into Alex's room for theory classes.

The poker game was informal, and Eagle cheated flagrantly until Wolf actually enforced his threatened ban, and allowed himself to be dealt out as well, watching the game in silence, eyes focused. Eagle distributed increasingly poor advice without bias, and finally Fox folded, leaving Alex and Snake in the game, which Snake won, pulling the matches he'd won towards him and grinning smugly at Alex while Eagle absently shuffled the cards.

"Card shark," Alex said easily, stretching out in his chair, and trying to ignore the clock on the wall, ticking ever closer to six thirty.

"You'd have beaten me if you were paying attention," Snake retorted. "Don't think I didn't notice you actively not counting cards."

"My uncle taught me," Alex said apologetically, and bent to retie his shoe-laces, missing the significant glance exchanged by the men above him.

"What happened to your uncle?" Wolf asked gruffly, stealing the cards from Eagle and beginning to deal them out again, seven cards each. "You said you lived with a guy called Jack?"

"Woman," Alex corrected, taking his cards. "He died."

"Huh," Eagle said, flicking through his own before taking a card from the stack and throwing away – clearly, he'd decided that gin rummy* was less hassle than poker. "Sorry to hear it."

"Really? Why?" Alex asked, watching carefully as Wolf picked up and threw away the ace of clubs. "You didn't know him."

"No, but it must've been rough," Eagle said, his voice oddly bland. "When my ma died-"

Alex held up a hand while Snake took his turn. "Don't tell me anything," he said, and met their surprised looks levelly. "Seriously – I know you've been training me, but it's only fractionally less likely that I'm going to end up either dead or captive in the next few weeks. If I'm dead, no biggie, if I'm captured, you don't want me knowing more than necessary."

Fox snorted. "Cub, relax," he said, taking a card of his own, and frowning down at his hand. "You've been in this camp for a fortnight. It's not our only camp, but it's the most famous, so if people want to come after us, which mostly they don't, they already know this place exists – but you've got a load of insider information that's a lot more valuable to whoever's after you than Eagle's mummy issues."

"Oy!" Eagle said, kicking out at Fox from the bed.

"It's true," Fox said unapologetically.

Alex shrugged; he really wasn't used to being able to just kick back and relax, not like these soldiers were. His entire life was a performance – playing the spy for MI6, performing ineptitude for his classmates, pretending to be OK for Jack – downtime, even when he got it, was only a little less stressful than being on assignment. And at some point, everything started to become about the job.

"If you really want to open up, go ahead, I guess," he said slowly. "But wouldn't you just feel more comfortable knowing I didn't have any secrets of yours to spill, if it all goes to hell?"

Eagle knocked his shoulder against Alex's. "Eh, we wouldn't leave you there long enough," he said, and there was a moment of silence as Alex glanced round the room, thoroughly taken aback.

Neither Wolf nor Snake would meet his eyes, and Fox was looking at Eagle, a classic expression of 'you just had to, didn't you?' on his face. Eagle was frankly unashamed, watching Alex take his turn, scooping up all the 'thrown away' cards without thinking about it, sorting them by rote, half without seeing them.

"You wouldn't be able to come and get me," he said finally, and Eagle shrugged.

"Well, I wouldn't go AWOL for you, Cub, so if we're not pulled in, sure, we wouldn't," he agreed, which Alex appreciated – he always preferred being told how it was, rather than platitudes which were, in his opinion, little better than outright lies. "But MI6 like getting us to do their dirty work, they don't like openly getting their hands dirty. We'd get you out."

Wolf grunted an agreement. "We'd try, anyway," he nodded. "Now are you going to throw away anytime soon, Cub, or do you really want to hang on to every single one of those cards?"

* * *

Manning shooed them all out at six thirty, and took a few minutes to clear up Alex's room, puttering more than anything else, as Alex was well aware. "Gilda's going to be here at seven," he said finally, and Alex nodded, picking at something unpleasant crusted on the table by the bed. "We're going to get those x-rays I threatened done – hopefully, they'll show up anything nasty waiting to happen – and I'll check those over while you and Gilda talk."

"She's aware of – what I do, right?" Alex asked, without looking up from the table.

"She's aware," Manning nodded, sounding just a little grim. "She had to be, Alex. And she really is qualified to deal with this. She's a damn good psychologist, even if I say it as shouldn't."

"How did you meet?" Alex asked, glancing briefly up and straight back down to the table.

"Stationed to the same hospital for training," Manning said briefly. "St. Thomas's, in London. I, er. Bumped into her after a tough night – A&E on a Saturday, in central London, it's a nightmare. Anyway, I spilt her coffee as she was coming off-shift. She told me the only way I could make it up to her was to buy her a new one."

"Picture-perfect," Alex commented without malice.

"If it hadn't happened to me, I'd accuse me of making it up," Manning agreed cheerfully. "Now, c'mon – x-rays."

The fuss of getting the x-rays done ate up the half-hour in no time, and Manning took Alex down to the foyer while he was waiting for the images to develop, where a woman in a skirt suit and heels was waiting on one of the hard plastic chairs. She was tall in her heels, blonde hair tied up neatly but not severely, and Alex noted that her make-up had been carefully put on several hours earlier and she hadn't bothered to reapply it.

Standing, she kissed Manning on the cheek, and turned to Alex, offering him a professionally warm smile. "You must be Alex," she said, her voice low and pleasant. "Richard's talked a lot about you these last few days." Alex didn't know quite what to say to that, so he said nothing and smiled blandly instead, shaking her hand when she offered it. "Right, are we in your office then, Richard?" she asked, turning back to her husband, and motioning him on when he nodded. "Well, get on then, we haven't got all night. Alex looks like he could use as many hours of sleep as he can get."

Alex trailed behind them, feeling oddly wrong-footed. He'd dealt with psychiatrists and psychologists before, mostly after his stint with Scorpia, but Gilda Manning wasn't what he'd expected. Even knowing she was an on-call psychologist for children and schools, he'd expected someone a little more world-weary, or hard-bitten.

Gilda, though, exuded warmth. He had no doubt it was a deceptive warmth – the way she managed her husband was testament to that, there was intelligence and determination there alright – but even if it was carefully designed and cultivated to put children at their ease, it had Alex off-balance from the get-go. He wasn't quite sure how he was going to deal with her.

He watched from a chair as Manning got his wife settled and headed off to examine the x-rays he'd just taken, without puttering and without fuss. Clearly, as much as they were husband and wife, they were two professional people intent on doing their jobs and doing them well – it was just unsettling to have that focus levelled at Alex. And he wasn't sure he was going to enjoy being left alone with Gilda.

She smiled at him from across the desk. "Sorry about the set up," she said pleasantly. "I normally work rather less formally, but since we had to do it here, there weren't really many informal options."

"It doesn't bother me," Alex said, and wondered what she was going to make of that.

She didn't seem to make anything of it, but Alex was pretty sure she was noting down everything somewhere in her brain. "Fair enough," she said easily. "So. What do you want to talk about?"

Alex frowned. "To be honest with you, I don't really want to talk about anything," he said frankly. "This wasn't exactly my idea."

"No, it wasn't," she agreed. "But I agree with Richard – you could probably use a lot of talking. Sadly for us, the babysitter can only stay till ten, so we can only pack a limited amount in."

"Look, whatever you're going to – I don't know, diagnose me with-"

"I'm not going to diagnose you with anything," Gilda interrupted him, which he was pretty sure was a cardinal sin in the psychology Bible. "What would be the point? I can't do any follow-up sessions with you, and I couldn't be sure of my diagnosis. I can be reasonably sure you're dealing with trauma or traumas, but everyone processes them a different way and yours isn't necessarily wrong. I'm just here to talk them through with you, if you want to."

"And if I don't want to?" Alex challenged, not quite sure why he was being so confrontational – he just felt hemmed in by the conversation already.

"Then we can talk about something else," she told him without batting an eyelid. "Do you support a football team? Richard and Sally are football mad, but they support Liverpool, which is a waste of bloody time if you ask me."

"What if I don't want to talk at all?"

"Then we'll sit here in silence," she said firmly. "But we will be sitting here."

"What good will that do?" Alex wanted to know.

She smiled. "More than you'd think, perhaps. Please understand, Alex, my being here at all, and you knowing I'm a psychiatrist, is suggestion enough for your brain. You'll be going over all the things you don't want to talk about with me anyway – though I'm sure you do that a fair amount already. I'm just here to give you the opportunity to do it out loud, if you want to."

"Are you sure _you_ want to?" he demanded. "How often do you deal with kids who've killed people?"

"More than you know," she said crisply. "One of my jobs is at the juvenile detention centre."

"And they're told to do it for Queen and country, are they?" Alex asked sarcastically.

"No. Mostly, they're seriously disturbed or pushed past their limits," she told him. "Believe it or not, I have a vested interest in making sure you don't end up the same way."

"And what would that vested interest be?"

"I'm a child psychologist, Alex. I'm not interested in making more work for others in my field – I'm interested in the mental health of children, under which title you, incidentally, fall. And if professional interest isn't enough, my husband is fond of you, and I trust his judgement. He says you're traumatised, and I'm inclined to agree."

"You don't even know me," Alex said dismissively.

"No. But I'm a psychologist," she replied without flinching. "And I have a lot of experience. Children from loving homes and stable emotional backgrounds don't habitually distrust figures of authority – you haven't relaxed once since we met. Children whose minds have never suffered trauma aren't wary of strangers to the same extent that you are – please don't think I didn't notice you've placed, or tacitly admitted to preferring having in place, a barrier between the two of us since we met, either my husband or this desk. And finally, children without secrets have no problems talking to me about what football team they support."

"Alright," Alex said, seeing an opening and taking it. "I support Chelsea. Though I think their latest match was a total nightmare, I don't know what they were thinking putting-"

"Nice try," she said blandly. "Why don't you pick a topic? It can be anything."

And there was a loaded offer if ever Alex had heard one. What did he really have to talk about? Everything that used to be a hobby – mountaineering, cycling, karate – had suddenly become a job, and football and school were the only two options left.

School it was, then.

"I'm failing English," he said abruptly. "I'm sure you can read all sorts of things into that."

"I could," she nodded. "But it wouldn't do either of us any good, and it's rather bad practice to make judgements on so little evidence. Do you like English?"

He shrugged. "It's not bad," he said. "But we're getting into GCSE stuff now, and I'm behind. It's easier to catch up in the other subjects. I haven't read the course texts."

"What are they?"

"_Romeo and Juliet_ and _Emma_."

"You might quite enjoy _Emma_," Gilda said, smiling. "If you can get past the fact that she's a complete pain in the arse half the time. Now there's a young woman who needs a healthy talking-to."

"Interesting psychological profile?" Alex asked instantly, without quite meaning to, and then not quite sure if he was mocking or seriously enquiring.

Gilda actually grinned. "Interesting for a literary character," she said. "If she were a real person, she'd be a psychologist's dream, all those cyclical moves towards self-betterment and romantic hang-ups – not to mention her stonking great daddy issues."

Alex sighed, only half-serious. "I'd need to read it to know if you're telling me the truth, or just trying to make it sound dull."

She laughed. "Actually, it's not bad. Austen's interesting, though – I bet she was laugh-out-loud funny when she was first published, whereas now she's quaintly ironic."

"A fate Michael Macintyre can look forward to, I guess," Alex said absently, then shook his head. "The point is, I'll never get a chance to read _Emma_."

"Does it worry you more that other people in your class might think you're not as bright as you are, or that your teachers might think you're lazy?"

"Oh, my teachers think I'm stupid too," Alex corrected her. "I've dropped three sets in everything since the beginning of this year."

"And that bothers you?"

"Why would you think it bothers me?"

"Because," she said carefully, "you're not boasting, and you brought it up."

He sighed. "A bit of both, I suppose." He looked at her for a long moment, and she met his gaze levelly until he dropped his eyes to his hands. "It's just – I can't show anyone what I can do anymore. I-I don't want them to know all the stuff I have to do on assignment, but I can't – even _I_ don't know what I'm capable of anymore, because I never get the chance to find out."

"Frustrating," she agreed. "Made worse because you're clearly a bright kid."

He smiled without humour. "I wasn't as stupid as they think I am," he said, and slumped. "You say I'm traumatised," he said abruptly after a long, rather tense pause. "I haven't noticed it. Wouldn't I be the first to know?"

"Probably not," she said. "I'm sure you've noticed a degree of – we'll call it mental shock – when you get home from one of your assignments, a degree of disconnect from your classmates too. But it's likely got to a point where you feel it's normal, like this is just your default setting."

"How do you know that what you think is traumatising is traumatising for me?"

"Well, let's be clear on this – I don't have the details, and I don't want you to tell me unless you're comfortable with it," she said slowly. "But age restrictions are in place for a reason. Sometimes, I feel they're too lax, to be honest – we should be erring on the side of caution, not exploitation. But they're in place, because while children are resilient, they aren't prepared for the mental pressure of certain situations. I don't know what you've seen or done, Alex. But whether it's stress or intensely distressing situations, you've dealt with things your age group isn't meant to deal with for a reason, and that is traumatising."

"I don't feel I am a child," Alex protested, then kicked himself – that was probably the most childish thing he could have said.

That wasn't what Gilda picked up on, though. Offering him a raised eyebrow and a smile tinged with sadness, she said, "and you wonder why I think you're traumatised? Now. What would you _really_ like to talk about?"

* * *

Gilda slid into the car next to Richard with a sigh, leaning her head back against the seat and unclipping her hair from its bun when the clip dug into her scalp.

"Well," she said, "he's a whole bundle of issues, isn't he?"

Richard nodded silently, fingers tapping against the wheel.

"What is it?" she asked, pulling her heels off and flexing her toes.

"His x-rays," Richard said shortly. "There's old breaks on there – older than there should be. Years old."

Gilda glanced at him before fixing her eyes forward, staring out into the beam of the headlights without seeing anything. "It would make sense," she said quietly. "I wouldn't say he shows symptoms of abuse, per se, but he's certainly wary enough. He – fits a profile."

"But you're not committing yourself," her husband nodded, sliding a sideways glance at her.

"You know me," she smiled a little. "After one visit? I'd be hesitant to say I know anything for sure."

"With this kid, I doubt I should even trust that I know his name," Richard agreed.

Gilda patted his knee. "It's a shame," she said thoughtfully. "For all his fronting, he seems like a nice boy. Reliable, if you know what I mean."

"Odd, isn't it? In a teenager," Richard said, steering them onto the main road back home. "I know he's been through hell, but I'd be pleased if our two grew up to be as decent."

"Less traumatised, though, please."

"Well, they have advantages he doesn't have," Richard said unhappily.

"True, oh King," she sighed. "Well, we'll have to see what we can do for him. I wish I could have done more."

"And I wish we could have done it earlier."

"We'll make the best we can of what we've got," Gilda said firmly. "I know that look on you, Richard. You're planning _something_. You had just best make sure that you don't leave me out of the planning."

"I'll tell you everything when we get home, when we've checked on the girls," he promised. "Most of it's guesswork, but if I'm right... well. I need you onside, Gilda."

"I've yet to find my faith in you misplaced," Gilda told him. "Still, I suppose there's a first time for everything."

"It's just – bad things have happened to that boy," Richard said, the unhappy note back in his voice. "You know as well as I do that I'm no bleeding heart, but I just think – we might be best placed to _do_ something for him."

Gilda was silent for a long moment. "Tell me your plan when we get home," she said firmly. "I promise I'll listen. That's all I'm promising, look you, but I will listen."

"When have I ever asked anything more?" Richard asked, and they finished the drive in silence.

* * *

Alex wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, but he did feel a little better for having talked to Gilda – he'd have liked to have more time to talk with her, if anything. She was – reassuring. Unflappable, that was certainly part of it – he'd confessed things to her he hadn't actually told anyone out loud – but she was also understanding. Not the fake understanding he'd been offered by the MI6 psychologists, who hadn't known what to do with a child, and whose work was mainly geared towards getting agents fit and ready for service again, but genuinely understanding of how he felt. She didn't try to tell him he should feel a certain way, or even tell him how he should be dealing with things; she just listened to him talk, asked how he dealt with things, and offered a sensible but unobtrusive advice. It had been nice.

Manning, too, seemed less on-edge when he arrived that morning to give Alex one last check-up. Alex rather thought he'd come to some sort of decision, and while that worried him (what decision had he made? And how badly was it likely to backfire?), he didn't press too much. He wanted plausible deniability – and he didn't want to have to worry about the one adult in his life who seemed to have things more or less together.

"Well," Manning told him cheerfully, perching on the edge of his bed while Alex pulled on his boots for the last time, "your X-rays came back clean. There's some old breaks which interested me, but your multiple head-injuries seem to be cleaning up nicely, and the hematoma is healing as well as you'd expect. I've sent your details on to St. Dominic's – they should be in touch with further information."

"Oh, good," Alex muttered, then shook his head. "And don't worry about the breaks – I had a very active childhood."

"You _still_ have a very active childhood," Manning said, faintly reproving, and Alex shrugged. He wasn't about to get into an argument about it. "How are you feeling today?"

"Stiff," Alex admitted, which felt like over-share, but it was the truth at least. "But I did the stretches you taught me and they helped."

"Well done," Manning said warmly, and Alex tried not to react too obviously to the praise. He never got praised for things, not anymore – and certainly not for taking care of himself. "So. Last day. Are you nervous?"

Alex stared at him, taken aback. "Of – course I am?" he said slowly. "I have no idea what happens next. Of _course_ I'm nervous. I'd be stupid not to be."

"And stupidity is about the last thing you could be accused of," Manning nodded. "Well, I hope you feel a little better prepared after this last week."

Alex shrugged again. If anything, he knew how _under_prepared he was, after this week; it wasn't comfortable knowledge. But then, in some ways, he _was_ better prepared – he knew just how little he could rely on his classmates to help, and just how little he could rely on MI6 for genuine help. It might not be comfortable knowledge, but it was still knowledge. "I guess," he said, noncommittally, and Manning nodded, suddenly sober.

"I want you to promise me something," he said abruptly, and Alex glanced at him, wary.

"What?" he said, when nothing else seemed to be forth-coming.

"I know it's the hardest thing I could ask you," Manning said, without looking at Alex, "but if you find yourself in a difficult situation, I want you to do the best thing _for you_. Can you promise me that?"

Alex considered it, somewhat taken aback. That was about the only thing he _couldn't_ do. "I – don't know," he said slowly. "Not if it's going to hurt my classmates, or an innocent bystander."

Manning waved that aside. "I wouldn't ask you to do that," he said, sounding almost impatient. "No, I mean, I want you to take whatever path is least dangerous for you."

Alex honestly had no idea what he meant or how he was supposed to follow that advice, but it seemed an easy enough promise to make. "I'll try?" he offered, and Manning smiled suddenly.

"That's as good as a promise from anyone else," he said, and Alex nodded, still unsure. He had no idea what had just happened, but he liked knowing Manning was at least a little reassured. "I'll call your mad unit in. I'll see you before you go." And with that, he disappeared, leaving Alex wondering what the hell had just happened.

* * *

K-Unit were equally odd that morning. They drilled Alex in everything he'd been taught in almost total silence; it was only when Wolf called a stop to the final run-through for lunch that anyone really spoke.

"You're about as good as you're going to get," Wolf said gruffly, and Eagle cuffed him round the back of the head, presumably for his less-than-encouraging words. Wolf casually elbowed him in the stomach.

"What he means to say is," Fox said, interpreting for both Wolf and Eagle, who was glaring at Wolf and thoroughly winded, "is, you're good, Cub."

"I just hope I'm good enough," Alex said miserably, and Snake clapped him on the shoulder.

"I have faith in your ingenuity, kid," he told him. "You'll think of a way out."

Eagle, breath caught, threw an arm round Alex's shoulders. "Give 'em hell," he advised, and ruffled Alex's hair with his free hand. Alex huffed indignantly and Eagle grinned. "You're gonna be fine," he promised, a little more seriously. "If things do go to shit, try out some of your fabled charm on them."

"It'd be easier if I knew what they _wanted_," Alex said. "If I've got no idea what they're after, I can't reason with them."

"Focus on what you can do," Wolf told him, and patted him on the shoulder when Eagle let go of him, which was practically a full-body hug from Wolf. "You do it well." The world had to be ending: Wolf was handing out compliments. "If that's not enough, look for whatever leverage you can get and sit tight."

"Because you'll be sweeping in as my knights in shining armour?" Alex asked, sarcastic.

"If MI6 get in our way, we'll publish everything we know in every newspaper we can get our hands on," Eagle said cheerfully. "But they won't. With you on the inside and us on the outside, these bastards won't stand a chance."

"It won't come to that," Fox said, frowning at Eagle. "You're prepared, kid. F-Unit say your lot aren't as hopeless as they were – they may not be _useful_ to you, but they won't be actively hindering you either. And you're good, you've got this."

Alex wished he could believe them as implicitly as they believed themselves, but he appreciated the thought. And not only the thought. "I – look," he paused, then soldiered on. "I really appreciate what you've done," he said awkwardly, and Wolf waved that thought away awkwardly.

"What, gave you a head injury, half-drowned and tortured you?" he said waspishly. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"I wasn't actually talking about that," Alex said, equally snippy. "And anyway, that wasn't all you. Don't take _all_ the credit."

Wolf huffed irritably, but Snake jumped in. "These idiots didn't have good manners beaten into them by their mothers," he said, with no little asperity, sounding more Scottish than ever. "You're welcome, Cub. I hope it stands you in good stead."

"Are we done with this nonsense?" Wolf wanted to know. "It's lunchtime. The brats'll have finished eating, so it's mess hall for all of us. C'mon, Cub, it's your last chance to eat slop for the foreseeable future."

"Be still my beating heart," Alex muttered, and trailed after them to the mess hall.

* * *

Where every unit he'd ever come into contact with was waiting for him.

Somewhat dazed, he was passed from unit to unit, each one with advice or congratulations of some sort, all ready with a grin or a piece of joking mockery, aimed equally at every member of K-Unit, Alex himself or MI6, each of them ready with the same assurance: if MI6 fucked it up, the SAS would be ready to sort their shit out. "After all," Adder said philosophically, "that's kind of our job."

It was an overwhelming experience, and Alex was relieved when Wolf shoved a tray into his hands and shoved him into a seat. "Be off with you," he said to the room at large. "I promised the kid slop, and slop is what he'll get. C'mon, Cub, eat up – you've got four hours on a coach with your useless classmates, you need your strength."

That at least forced a smile out of him. As he ate – whatever it was – he listened to the room around him, the camaraderie of the men he was surrounded by. However forced their cheer might be, it was still reassuring, and he almost wished he didn't have to leave. He felt safe here – not so much because the people he was with were trained and competent soldiers, but because they were a group, a group in which everyone had a place and a role, and a purpose. It would be nice, Alex thought wistfully, to have that kind of system. He was used to being everything he needed to be, all by himself, and usually he liked that kind of independence. But since he was about to leave, he was aware that, despite all the crap he'd gone through at this camp, he would actually miss this aspect of it.

He was in the mess hall for a full hour before he got the chance to head off, and as he put his tray away, he found himself face-to-face with Bear and Hawk – Bear impassive, Hawk off-balance, but both solidly in his way.

"Just wanted to say good luck, Cub," Bear said, smiling a little and offering him his hand to shake. "Hopefully we'll see you again sometime soon."

"I hope so too," Alex said, unsure how much he meant it, and unsure how likely that was.

"And I owe you an apology," Hawk muttered. "I know I've done this once, but – you're a good kid. I hope you get through all this OK. You deserve to."

"Thanks," Alex said, just as awkward, and made his escape, tailed by K-Unit, back up to the infirmary.

It was an odd feeling, to know he was actually leaving, and still odder to know that he had the well-wishes of half a campful of SAS. Not unpleasant, but definitely odd. He'd arrived a non-entity and was leaving as part of the camp, in some strange, intangible way, and he wasn't used to any kind of camaraderie extending to include him. Strangest of all, despite the difficulties and miseries that had plagued him throughout the entire nightmare fortnight, he was actually going to be sad to leave – and not just because of what he had to face in the outside world.

* * *

By some magic, his things were waiting for him back at the infirmary, including his civvie clothes. It was definitely weird to change out of his combat gear and heavy-duty boots and back into his jeans and Converse. He felt half-dressed out of the thick, swamping standard-issue uniform, and the Converse felt insubstantial and flimsy. The boy who stared back at him from the mirror in the infirmary bathroom looked odd in civilian clothes; somehow, over the last fortnight, he'd become so used to seeing himself in army gear that he didn't seem to suit anything else anymore.

If nothing else, it drove home to him that he was actually leaving.

* * *

Manning and K-Unit were waiting in his room when he reappeared to pick up his backpack.

For a moment, K-Unit was silent, then Wolf stepped forward, clapping him on the shoulder one last time. "Good luck, kid," he said gruffly. "Remember everything we've taught you. Don't lose your head. I expect to get a Christmas card from you."

"Remember to shield your left side," was Fox's advice. "And keep practising." He too clapped Alex on the shoulder, and followed Wolf out. Snake just smiled.

"Keep yourself healthy," he said simply, and disappeared also. Clearly none of K-Unit were down with emotional goodbyes.

Except, naturally, Eagle, who pulled Alex in for a hug, a proper one this time, and pulled back almost instantly. "If you die, I will kill you myself," he said firmly.

"So reassuring," Alex said, managing a smile, and Eagle laughed.

"I'll be checking in with you, Cub," he warned. "So you'd better keep yourself alive and well, alright? I'm depending on you."

"I'll do my best," Alex promised, and Eagle smiled at him, sudden and warm.

"See to it," he said, simply, and ruffled Alex's hair, before following the rest of his unit, leaving Alex with Manning.

"Keep up your stretches," Manning said calmly. "And eat your vegetables."

"No martial advice?" Alex asked, desperate for the stream of goodbyes to be over. It felt final and he wanted to be able to pretend for just a little while longer. It might be hiding his head in the sand, but the bus left in half an hour; he wouldn't have the luxury for much longer.

"None," Manning told him. "But Gilda and I set up an email address last night – one for us and one for you, so you can get in touch with us without anyone knowing; here're the details." He handed Alex a business card, with two email addresses and a password scribbled on the back. "And that's my home number, in case of emergencies," he added casually. "I expect to hear from you, Alex. Gilda too."

Alex stared down at the card for a long moment, then slid it into his wallet without saying anything. He didn't know what he _could_ say. Back in London, he had Jack, who loved him and who he loved, and it felt like a betrayal to want to keep Manning in his life – but he _did _want to. He just wasn't sure how sensible or even how possible that would be. He'd see how things went, he decided, and offered Manning a twisted smile. "Thank her for me, would you?" he asked, instead of answering. "For last night. It really helped."

"Of course," Manning nodded, and pulled Alex in for a hug. It wasn't like Eagle's hug – a brief, friendly thing. If Alex hadn't known Manning was a father, he'd have known from that hug. "Keep yourself safe, hmm? Or I, too, will be very cross with you."

"Anything but that," Alex said sarcastically, straining after calm, and Manning laughed.

"Get on with you," he said easily. "And keep in touch, Alex. I wish we'd met in better circumstances, but I'm glad we met at all."

"Yeah," Alex managed. "Yeah, me too." They stood in silence for a minute, then Alex cleared his throat. "I'd, er. I'd better..." he gestured at the door, and Manning nodded.

"Be off with you, then."

Alex shouldered his back, and headed for the door. "Thanks," he said, half turning back, glancing over his shoulder. "For everything."

He made good his escape.

Manning, left behind him, took a deep breath, and then another. And so the waiting game started.

* * *

Alex was the last one onto the coach, and was met with a variety of reactions, from stony silences to sneers. Hartford was oddly restrained, but the other kids didn't seem damped by their leader's silence, and Alex was treated to any number of snide explanations for his battered appearance and week-long absence as he slid into the seat next to Tom.

"OK, Alex?" Tom asked, and he shrugged as the coach rumbled to life.

"Don't know yet," he said simply. Tom nudged him sympathetically while Maddie wondered loudly whether he'd had to go to the infirmary for cold turkey from cocaine.

Alex stared determinedly out at the empty car park, and wondered silently what the hell was going to come next.

* * *

And there it is! The long-promised final days at the camp.

Now, this story is not finished. I REPEAT, THIS STORY IS NOT FINISHED! Remember mentions of an actual plot? Yeah, that comes next. (There is no way I get this thing done in less than 200 000+ words. I can only apologise.) But the camp is over! I hope you enjoyed it. Most of the time, I certainly did.

* gin rummy (also known as 'gathering', also known in my family as 'strangling' because that's what we want to do to each other after playing it) is a card game involving seven cards each. You have a pile of cards in the middle, and you pick a card up and throw one away each turn. The aim of the game is to find a set of three: either three of the same card (i.e. three Jacks) or a run of three (i.e. Ace, King and Queen of Diamonds.) Yes, this is a lot of detail for a tiny point. There are very few things in life I understand and still less I get the chance to teach people about. I have to take my opportunities where I can get them.

Also, I love _Emma_. Any bad-mouthing in the comments will receive a long-winded essay about why she's a completely fascinating character. (And yes, sol, I am looking at you.) _There will be footnotes and references._ I'm not saying you can't badmouth the book. I just want you to be prepared for the probably response.

Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed the story so far! There is more to come. :D

ami xxx


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